


Decline and Fall of Sophia Hess

by Axxor



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/F, F/M, Imprisonment, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axxor/pseuds/Axxor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is one of my earlier NSFW works.  It's pretty much a Shadow Stalker bashfic, so be warned.  Also in it are elements that I ended up reusing in later fics, such as a relationship between Danny and Taylor Hebert.  This also serves as the major inspiration for The Breaking of Shadow Stalker, which has a wider scope, much more consensual and semi-consensual sex, and involves the other two bitches more closely.  It's also much more porn-cracky.</p><p>In this one, Sophia falls prey to a powered-up Greg Veder, and events spiral downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shadow Stalker Meets the Electromaster

 Greg Veder swore as he tapped commands into the computer. He glanced around the computer lab. It was lunchtime; no-one else was here. This meant that no-one would see the feeds from the eight tiny cameras that he had deployed in the girls’ locker room some days previously. This was the first time he’d been able to get up the nerve to actually access them. With luck, he’d be able to pan and zoom and save imagery, and all the heretofore hidden delights of the girls’ locker room would be his to savour.  
  
It wasn’t actually the same as meeting a real girl, and going on a date with her, and maybe even kissing her ...  
  
His glasses began to steam up. Irritably, he wiped them.  
  
 _What’s wrong with the damn cameras?_  
  
And then he looked at his glasses and groaned. Steam. That’s what did it. The locker room would be steamy, and he’d placed them up near the ceiling, and the moisture must have gotten in and ruined them.  
  
“Arrrgh!” he shouted. “Why can’t things ever go  _right?”_  His frustration was at a fever point; he had been looking forward to this moment for  _days._  
  
Amd it happened.  
  
Greg Veder shut down the computer and got up from his chair. He placed his glasses back on his nose. Plans and schematics that would be virtually indecipherable to anyone else were scrolling through his mind.  
  
 _Screw putting cameras in the girls’ locker room,_  he told himself.  _Now I know how to go out and meet real girls. **Hot**  girls._  
 _  
I’m gonna have it all._  
  
The person who walked ouit of the computer lab was not precisely the same Greg Veder who had walked in, half an hour before.  
  
\---  
  
Shadow Stalker leaped over the alleyway, looking left and right as she did so. She couldn't see Skitter anywhere, but she couldn't be too fat away.  _And once I catch up with her ..._  
  
She accelerated, leaping to clear another alleyway. In the distance, she thought she saw Skitter's profile, just turning a corner.  _I've got her now._  
  
She was so focused on the distant figure that she never saw the one in the alley below; wires arced up and there was an ugly crackling sound. Electricity surged through her, and she blacked out.  
  
Her last thought was  _Fuck. A decoy._  
  
\---  
  
She was actually rather surprised to wake up. She was even more surprised that she wasn't tied to a chair, or even in restraints.  _What the fuck?_  
  
Looking around, she decided that she was in one of the many abandoned warehouses that dotted Brockton Bay's Dockland area. Closer to home, she was lying on the floor in the middle.of a square made up of four metal poles, each about ten feet tall; they stood ten feet apart.  
  
Picking herself up off the floor, she realised that she was missing some of her gear. This included both crossbows and all of her bolts, anything else that could be used as a weapon, but not her costume. Or, for that matter, her official Wards communicator, with its built-in GPS. Her mask was lying on the floor beside her.  _He’s seen my face. Fuck._  Nonetheless, she grabbed the mask and fitted it back on to her face.  
  
The location of her gear was quickly solved; she spotted all of it, carelessly piled on the floor beside a swivel chair, which was itself in front of a desk. The desk held a couple of computer towers which were modified in unusual ways.   
  
Sophia groaned to herself.  _A fucking Tinker's base._ She knew the signs.  _I've been tagged by a fucking Tinker._  
  
And then she realised that she wasn't alone. Someone was sitting in the char; his long cape, hanging to the floor, had hidden his legs from her. She could hear the sound of someone typing, and then muttering to himself.  
  
"Boston ... nada ... Chicago ... nope. Fuck, where is she  _from?"_  
  
Carefully, she made to move between two of the poles, her eyes fixed on the pile of her gear. But just before she crossed the threshold, she recalled that it was a Tinker's base, and flicked out a corner of her cape to see what happened.  
  
An instant later, she was truly glad that she had; four walls and a ceiling composed of a crackling blue gridwork of energy sprang into being around the four poles. She recoiled; the raised hairs on her arm and the tingling on her skin let her know exactly how close she had come to being fried.  
  
 _I hate fucking Tinkers._  
  
At the sound of the cage coming into being, the clattering of keys stopped and the chair swivelled to face her. Its occupant stood.  
  
He was tall and gawky, and the costume was made up mainly of bits of Tinker tech, wired together in some way that only another Tinker would grasp. She had no idea what they did, and she didn't much care. The predominant colours were electric blue and black. She frowned.  _That's no villain I know._  
  
"Hey!" she said. "Dipshit! How about you let me out of this fancy cage before I bring the Wards and Protectorate down on your sorry head for kidnapping a minor, not to mention false imprisonment!"  
  
He grinned in a sort of gawky way. "You're not gonna call the Wards."  
  
"Why the fuck not?" she wanted to know.  
  
"Well, for starters," he said, "You're obviously a villain. Why would a villain call the  _Wards?_  To turn yourself in?" He made a sort of snorting laugh that set her teeth on edge, then he struck a pose. "For you have been captured by Electromaster, evildoer!"  
  
She grinned savagely. Behind her back, she pressed the button that would set off the distress beacon in her comm unit. "I  _am_  a Ward, you dipshit," she informed him caustically. "Ever hear of Shadow Stalker? That's me."  
  
He paused. She could see the realisation crossing his face. "Fuck," he said, and spun back to his computer. She could hear him tapping away frantically. "Hero database .. why didn't I check the fucking  _hero_  database?" She crossed her arms and sighed.  _Fucking Tinkers._  
  
She heard him find the right page, his muttering as he read the information, then he turned to face her, then looked down at the gear. "Fuck."  
  
He stood up and paced across the floor. "Fuck fuck fuckity  _fuck!"_  
  
She watched him warily. Her impression was that if his stupid Tinker helmet didn't cover his head, he would be tearing his hair out by now.  _What the fuck **is**  with this dipshit?_  
  
"Look," she said, trying to be patient, "this is obviously a huge fucking mistake," -  _and you made it, dipshit,_  she only just barely avoided saying - "so all you have to do is turn off the power to this cage, and I'll be on my way."  _After I kick the living shit out of you for pulling this shit on me_. She thought about it.  _Actually, he's seen my face. Probably better if I kill him before the Wards get here, and claim self defense._  
  
"No, no, you don't get it," he said, pacing back again. "I got _into_  this gig to meet the girls. Chicks dig a cape, you know? But I found out that it's really hard to meet girls and keep a secret identity at the same time. Besides, they don't believe me when I tell them," he added morosely.  
  
"So what the  _fuck_  does this have to do with me being in this fucking cage?" she demanded.  
  
"Well," he said, "I figured I'd meet a female hero and, you know, bond a bit. She saves my life, I save her life, we spend long hours on a stakeout together, nature takes its course ..."  
  
"Wait a minute," she interrupted, "You're doing all this to get  _laid?"_  
  
"No!" he protested. "Well, maybe. A bit."  
  
 _Well, fuck me,_  thought Sophia.  _I never thought I'd meet anyone more pathetic than Hebert. Wonders will never cease._  "So wait, you thought tasering me and dragging me here, and putting me in a cage would make me want to  _team up_  with you?"   
  
"No, no," he protested. "For some reason, none of the capes I contacted on the Parahumans Online boards wanted to meet up."  
  
 _Big fucking surprise there_ , thought Sophia.  _After the New Wave fiasco, no fucking cape is just going to walk into a meet with a stranger on the boards._  
  
"So, the cage ...?" she prompted.  _Come on, guys, what's keeping you?_  
  
"So I decided to catch a female supervillain," he explained. "And I'd keep her locked up and you know, rehabilitate her. So when I let her go, she'd be all grateful and stuff."  
  
"So, back to getting laid again," she commented caustically. "Only with a villain.  _Brilliant_  fucking plan, Sherlock."  
  
"Well,  _I_  thought so," he agreed modestly, then paused doubtfully.  
  
"That was fucking  _sarcasm_ , dipshit," Sophia told him. "It's possibly the most retarded plan since ... fuck. Since someone proposed nuking Behemoth. It's more retarded than trying to ass-fuck a porcupine and expecting not to get a perforated dick."  
  
"It's not  _that_  bad a plan," he protested.  
  
"Oh?" she asked. "And what fucking brilliant insight led to that fucking conclusion?"  
  
"Well," he said with a dorky grin, "I caught  _you_ , didn't I?"  
  
"Once more from the top, dipshit," she said carefully. "I'm a hero, not a villain. I'm a  _Ward_. Not a fucking villain." She paused, then decided that it could stand to be repeated one more time. "Not. A. Villain."  
  
"Well, yeah, I know that  _now_ ," he said irritably. "It's the one flaw in my plan. Everything else went off perfectly. My drones spotted you, gave me time to get into position. And now I've got a hot cape chick in my electro-forcefield cage."  
  
"Yes, you do. And she's a Ward. So are you going to let me go any time soon?" she asked sarcastically.  
  
"Well ... " he said hesitantly, "If I did, would you be grateful enough to sleep with me?"  
  
She burst out laughing. "Fuck, no," she gasped. "I might be grateful enough to not pull your lungs out through your asshole, but even that's pushing it."  
  
"Um, okay ... a blowjob, then?" he asked.  
  
She laughed harder.  
  
"How about a lap dance then?" he went on doggedly. She got the impression he was working down a list.  
  
"What do I look like, a fucking whore?" she snapped.  
  
"Well, in that tight outfit, a little bit, yeah," he said.  
  
"Fuck you!" she shouted. "Fuck all Tinkers, fuck your fucking electro-cage, fuck your faggy costume! Fuck everything about you! I wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire! If you got hit by a car, I'd cross the road to kick you in the balls!" She subsided, seething. "When I get out of here, the  _very first_  thing I'm going to do is beat the ever-loving shit out of you." She spat at him; it sizzled and evaporated in the electric field. "Does that give you an idea of exactly how grateful I'm  _not?"_    
  
He frowned, or she thought he did, behind his visor. "What makes you think you're getting out of the cage?" he asked, honest puzzlement in his voice.  
  
She brought out the comm unit. "Signal beacon, dipshit. Full GPS and everything. The Protectorate and the Wards both should be kicking down your door any minute now.  _That's_  how."  
  
His face cleared. "Ah. Heh. You didn't pay much attention in Physics class, did you?"  
  
She frowned, feeling a tendril of doubt creep into her mind. "What the good goddamn _fuck_ does that have to do with anything?"  
  
He smiled dorkily. "Ever hear of a Faraday cage?"  
  
She frowned. She'd heard  _something ..._  
  
He sounded extremely pleased with himself. "They block radio waves, basically. Such as your comm unit. And the cage you're in? It acts just like one. So no, they won't be breaking down my door any time soon."  
  
"But, but," she protested, "I'm a hero, you're a hero. You still have to let me go."  
  
"Well, actually," he said, "if it means I can keep you, there's nothing stopping me from being a villain if I want to be."  
  
A chill ran down her spine.  _"Keep_  me?"  
  
"Fuck yeah," he said enthusiastically. "You're a really hot superbabe, no-one knows where you are. You're all  _mine."_  She decided that she had never heard any word pronounced as creepily as that. And then he topped that one. "I'm gonna have so much  _fun_  with you.". He grinned at her; she shivered. "And hey, you might even learn to enjoy it."


	2. Sacrifice of Dignity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow Stalker learns exactly how far she will go to get what she needs. And how much of a dick a rules-lawyer can be.
> 
> Involves forcible sexual contact. You have been warned.

 Hours later, Sophia was still having trouble coming to terms with her predicament. Reason had not worked; threats had not worked. Well, to be honest, the threats had come before the attempts to reason with him, but it was all the same in the end.  
  
It was very frustrating to her; she was used to being the one in charge, the one in power. It was very much what she lived for. To be able to exert her power over others. It was what being a predator was all  _about_. To not be able to enforce her will with, well, force, was an extremely disquieting situation for her.  
  
She  _hated_  it.  
  
"Look," she said, "be logical here."  _I'm forced to use **logic**  on this dipshit. This is so fucking humiliating. When I get out of this, I'm going to take him to the roof, nail him to the edge by his nuts, and push him the fuck over the side._  
  
"Logical?" he asked. "I'm good at logic. So what's your logical argument?"  
  
"It's fucking simple," she told him. "I'm a fucking  _Ward_. You don't kidnap a Ward and get away with it. They'll be  _looking_  for me. And you can be sure as hell that they will find me. Which means they will find  _you_. Which means that you'll be looking at jail time at best, and the 'Cage at worst. And when I tell them about the sexual harassment, of a minor no less, you'll be Birdcage bound for sure,"  
  
She really hated that dorky grin. The one that said he was already three steps ahead of her. She wasn't quite sure if this was because of the sheer irritating  _dorkiness_  of it, or because it meant that he knew something that she didn't. Again.  
  
"Looking?" he said, as if he were unsure of the meaning of the word. "Oh yeah, they'll be looking for you. But not where you are." His grin was  _very_  irritating, she decided. "See, I got a sample of that signal beacon of yours, and I sent three drones out of town in different directions, each of them programmed to come back with your signal, but to show misleading GPS data. When they send an interrogatory to you comm, the beacon will light off on one. Thirty seconds later, it will cut out. It will go silent for several days, then another one will light off. And so on."  
  
"But why would I  _go_?" she insisted. "No one will believe that shit."  
  
 _I swear, I am gonna punch that dorky grin right off his **face**._  
  
"Oh, no reason," he said. "Except for  _this_." He held up a mobile phone. With a shock, she realised that it was hers. "You should really be more careful with your stuff,  _Sophia_. I found all sorts of interesting shit on here."  
  
"That was locked," she said weakly.  
  
"Oh  _yeah_ ," he said, as if in sudden realisation. "I bet you'd need a  _Tinker_  or someone to get into it." He looked at her and shook his head. "It's a good thing you're a hottie, because  _fuck_ , you're stupid."  
  
She decided that she hated his sarcasm more than his dorky grin, but not by much.  _But what really hurts is being called 'stupid' by a fucking clueless dipshit like this._  
  
"So, what about my phone?" she asked cautiously.  
  
There was that dorky grin again. No, she definitely hated the grin the most.  
  
He flicked through a few pages. "This is a series of texts between you and a certain Emma Barnes."  
  
He showed her the screen, scrolling through the messages, slowly enough for her to read them.  
  
[[img width=400 height=600]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v372/Zapmaster/Text1.jpg[/img]](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Zapmaster/media/Text1.jpg.html)  
  
Sophia went cold all over. She used that abbreviation regularly.  
  
He was grinning, but she didn't notice. She was too busy reading.  
  
[[img width=400 height=600]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v372/Zapmaster/text2.jpg[/img]](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Zapmaster/media/text2.jpg.html)  
  
He stopped paging through. She was staring in horror. "You did  _not_  fucking send that to Emma. Or, I swear .." She stopped. She'd run out of threats an hour ago, and he seemed oblivious to them, anyway.  
  
He started scrolling through again. She couldn’t look away.  
  
"Are you fucking with me?" she murmured, reading the first bit, just before it scrolled up.  
  
[[img width=400 height=600]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v372/Zapmaster/Text3.jpg[/img]](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Zapmaster/media/Text3.jpg.html)  
  
Sophia was staring. "How the fuck did you know about  _that_?"  
  
He grinned, and this time it was worse. It was a  _lecherous_  dorky grin. "If you suck my cock, I'll tell you."  
  
"No," she said reflexively. "Fuck you."  
  
"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, then I sent her a really sexy description of how you'd like her to come out on patrol with you, wearing one of your spare cloaks, and nothing but really sheer panties underneath. And how you'd take her up on the roof and you'd both strip off, and you'd get her to fuck you up the ass with a strap-on dildo."  
  
" _Fuck."_ She had no doubt, now, that he'd done exactly what he'd said. "Please tell me she treated it like a joke."  
  
"Actually, no," he said, sounding surprised. "She loved the idea. Said she'd meet you on Friday night wearing those little tiny frilly knickers you like so much."  
  
Sophia's brain locked up for a minute, then he burst out laughing. Even his  _laugh_  was annoying. " _Fuck,_  you're stupid," he giggled. "Of  _course_  she didn't. She didn't even answer." He put on a mock-hurt tone. "I think she may have blocked you. I have no idea why."  
  
"You fucking  _cocksucker_ ," she snarled.  
  
"No," he said. "No, I don't think so. That'll be you."  
  
She was silent, glaring at him. She had used that glare to intimidate people before. On him, it had no effect.  _Is he so clueless that he doesn't think I can touch him once this is over?_  It was very annoying.  
  
"So then I sent voicemail to her home phone. Here, have a listen."  
  
He flipped a few pages and pressed an icon. What came out of the speaker was recognisable as her voice.  _"Emma, please call me back. Emma, I love you. I need you. We belong together. Emma, please, I'm desperate. I can't live without you."_  
  
"What the fuck? I never said that!"  
  
"Jesus  _fuck,_ " he said. "It's like trying to make conversation with a fucking  _sea slug_. I'm a fucking  _Tinker_. I got a nice big voice sample off you earlier, and I strung this together in five minutes."  
  
 _Fuck. Emma's dad is going to hear that. And Emma will show him the texts, if he asks. That's my probation fucked. He'll see to that._  
  
"Oh, and there's something else," he said lightly. "Director Piggot of the PRT got this email shortly afterward." He thumbed to a screen and started to read.  
  


> Dear Miss Piggy. By the time you read this, once you can drag yourself away from watching Vista and Flechette licking each other out in the showers, I will be well out of town, so fuck you. Don't even bother looking for me, because I've skimmed enough cash from my various busts to give myself a whole new identity. Emma doesn't want me, so there's nothing to keep me here any more. I'm sick of this shit, sick of having to follow the fucking rules, sick of my probation, and sick of your ugly fat face. If I ever see it again, I will put an arrow in it, and not the non-lethal type either. So in conclusion, I hope you die in a fire, you ugly disgusting fat freak. Love and kisses, Sophia Hess, aka Shadow Stalker, aka your worst fucking nightmare.

She sagged, and sat down suddenly. “Fuck. You’ve killed me, you fucking son of a bitch. I just sent a fucking  _death threat_  to a regional director of the PRT. I’ll be lucky to get the Birdcage; they’ll probably just slap a kill order on me.”  
  
“You still don’t get it, do you?” he said. “You’re  _safe_. You’re here. They’ll never find you here. You’re all mine.” His dorky grin with a side order of creepy horny teenage boy, was back. “And if you cooperate … it might even be nice for you.”  
  
She came to an abrupt decision. “Fuck it. I’ll do it.”  
  
“Do what?” he asked.  
  
“Do whatever you want that’ll get me out of here. Give you a bit wet sloppy kiss. Let you French kiss me. Let you touch my boobs. Fuck, I’ll even suck your cock, but if you ever tell anyone I’ll fucking kill you. Just let me clear my name.”  
  
He was watching her intently. “You’ll suck my cock? No fooling?”  
  
“Sure,” she said impatiently.  _He’s got to let me out of the cage to do it, and then his ass is fucking **mine**._  
  
He grinned. “Okay. I’ll let you out of the cage if you suck my cock.”  
  
“Great. Let’s get to it.” She gestured at the energy barrier. “Not like you can stick it through the bars.”  
  
“Good point,” he allowed. He picked up a control of some sort from the desk and clicked a button. A narrow slot, no more than two inches high, opened in the bottom edge of one energy barrier.  
  
“Uh, news flash?” she said. “I’m skinny, but I’m not that skinny.”  
  
He grinned that infuriating dorky grin again. “It’s not for you.” He nodded to her. “Take off your gloves and boots and cloak.”  
  
“Why?” she asked. “Is this some sort of creepy perv thing?”  
  
“Skin contact. Take ‘em off or no deal.”  
  
Sighing, she took off her gloves and boots, then unclipped the cloak and put it down. Her long hair flowed free. It felt good. It was the only thing right now that did.  
  
“You may as well put the mask down too,  _Sophia,_ ” he said. “I know all about who you are and where you live. And you can’t suck my cock if you’re wearing it.”  
  
 _Fuck, how does he know this shit?_  She paused.  _Oh, right. Tinker._  
  
 _I fucking hate Tinkers._  
  
“Oh, and you’re going to need to take your top off too,” he said as he picked up several items from the desk. “And your bra, if you’re wearing one.”  
  
She stared at him. “What the fuck for?”  
  
“So I can look at your tits while you’re sucking my cock. Duh.”  
  
“Fuck off I’m showing you my fucking tits.”  
  
He clicked his tongue. “Ah well …” He pressed the button that closed the narrow slot. “Dealbreaker, sorry.”  
  
She glared at him. It didn’t have any appreciable effect.  
  
“You’ll let me out of this fucking cage if I promise to suck your cock?” She had to return to that. Nothing else mattered except getting out of the cage.  
  
“Sure. I’ll let you out of the cage if you promise to suck my cock. And let me come on your tits and face.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” she said.  _It’s not like he can enforce it anyway._  
  
“Okay, cool,” he said. He hit the remote again, and the slot opened. Walking over to the cage, he skimmed five strap-like devices into the cage through the slot, then closed the slot.  
  
“Take your top off, like I said, and your bra. I want a good look at your tits. And put those things on. One goes around your neck, one on each wrist, one’s a belt, and one on each ankle.”  
  
“What are they for?” she asked cautiously.  
  
“Just in case you decide to go back on your promise,” he said obliquely.  
  
 _Oh shit. I might actually have to go through with this._  
  
She told herself that it wasn’t that bad, that girls apparently did it for their boyfriends all the time.  
  
 _And I’m not getting out of the cage unless I put those on, and somehow he thinks those will force me to suck his cock._  
  
 _Fuck. Well, this will get me out of the cage anyway._  
  
With a grimace, she pulled her top off over her head, then unclipped the sports bra and dropped it on the pile. Aware of his eyes on her breasts, she bent to pick up the five items. It wasn’t hard to tell which was which; she clipped each one around the area in question. The belt came last; it was cold to the touch, and when she snapped the buckle over to fasten it, it came alive with a low-frequency hum. All at once, blue lights began chasing themselves around each of the straps, including (presumably) the one around her neck.  
  
When she looked over toward him, she saw him adjusting the focus on a tripod camera.  
  
Immediately, her arms went up to cover her breasts. “Hey, you didn’t say anything about filming this!”  
  
“Oh, didn’t I?” he asked. “Sorry, must have slipped my mind.” He gestured. “Take your arms away. The viewers want to see what you’ve got.”  
  
“Fuck you,” she snapped.  
  
He shrugged, pulled a remote from his belt, and pressed a button. There was a crackle, and the strap around her left wrist shocked her sharply; she yelped and it jerked away from her body. The same thing happened to her right wrist when he pressed a second button.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, “but your tits are on show today. I’ve got …” He leaned over and checked something. “Seventy-one thousand viewers on right now. Some of them are asking for you to be stripped altogether, or just go to panties.” He paused. “If you go to panties, I won’t come on your face. If you strip, I won’t come on you at all.”  
  
“No,” she ground out. “We’ll do the deal as it stands. I suck your cock, you come on my face and my tits. In return, you let me out of the cage.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” he said. “Ah, just so you know.” He held up the second remote. “This has four settings for shock and four settings for application. You just got the lowest level of shock. The highest level will probably kill you. I’m not going to tell you what level it’s on now.”  
  
He paused. “The levels of application are Off, Free Movement, Slow Movement, and Stop. If one of them is on Stop, it will buzz. If you move it more than an inch, it will shock you. Slow movement is basically a foot a second or less. You can guess the rest. I’ve got them all on Slow Movement at the moment. Got that?”  
  
She nodded. “Got it. Slow Movement right now.”  
  
“Good,” he said. Pressing a button on the original remote opened one side of the cage, and she stepped out, moving cautiously.  _Fuck, I’m out._  
  
He sat down in the large swivel chair, and gestured. “Come over here and suck my cock, Shadow Stalker.”  
  
“Can I have some Free Movement?” she said. “You’re all the way over there.”  _If I can get in range to hit him …_  
  
“No,” he said. “In fact, I want you to crawl to me.” He gestured. “Down you get.”  
  
Fearing another shock, she sank to her knees, then to all fours. Her dark eyes promised dire retribution.  _When I get out of here, I am bringing back so many capes this place will be a fucking **crater**._  
  
The camera, obviously on computer control, followed her torturous path over to him. When she finally reached him, he said, “Okay, kneel up. Turn a bit to the left, that’s good. Now we can see your tits. Aren’t they nice, guys?” He pressed a button, and all the restraints began to buzz. “Okay, that’s you on pause.”  
  
He leaned over to his computer and read the screen. “Oh boy. Someone wants to douse you with cold water to really make your nipples stand out. Someone else wants to attach clothespegs to your nipples.” He looked over at her. “I don’t think we’ll do any of that. Or the one guy who wants to cut your nipples off with a razor blade. Geez, dude! For fuck’s sake! I just  _got_  her!”  
  
She went cold all over. She was in serious danger here. If someone proposed something dangerous or life-threatening, and he liked it …  
  
“Come on,” she urged. “Let me suck your cock. I bet it’s a big one.”  
  
He nodded. “That’s more like it.” Standing up, he walked over to her and undid his belt. Before his trousers dropped to his ankles, he showed her the remote in his hand. “Just so you know.”  
  
His cock was medium sized, perhaps a little larger. It was already solidly erect, and he thrust it at her face.  
  
“I’m going to need slow movement for my head at least,” she pointed out. “Maybe arms too.”  
  
“Good point,” he said, and pressed the buttons. Those restraints stopped buzzing.  
  
She really didn’t see any way out of it. So she opened her mouth and took his erect penis into it.  
  
For Greg Veder, this was the greatest moment of his life, bar none, seconded only by the point when she took off her sports bra and showed him her breasts. And even that was a distant second. The warm, wet mouth that was folded around his cock, the tongue that was lapping at his foreskin, the hands that were cupping his balls and working his shaft … he was in heaven.  _This_ , he decided, was what being a cape was all about.  
  
Sophia had never actually given head before, but she had a reasonable idea of how it was done. So she went ahead with her best guess, and it seemed to pay off. He moaned and pushed his cock toward her face, and she did her best to ignore the taste – he didn’t seem to be big on genital hygiene – and hoped like hell this would be over soon.  
  
She wasn’t actually all that good at it, but to Greg that didn’t matter one iota. He was a horny teenager with a pretty girl’s mouth around his cock; even without watching her breasts jiggle as she worked his cock, he still would have gone off pretty quickly. As it was, she was about a minute and a half into it, and running out of things to do, when he gasped, arched his back, and let fly.  
  
It felt like the top of his head was coming off. Pleasure blasted through his system, cleared out his sinuses, and made him feel like the wax was melting in his ears. All he could feel was the sheer ecstasy of his first assisted – and greatest ever – orgasm.  
  
Wads of semen splattered all over her face, one nearly going in her eye, and into her hair. More sprayed down over her firm breasts and stomach. And more went into her mouth; she coughed and choked and swallowed some, and spat the rest out.  
  
 _Fuck_ , he thought, once his head cleared.  _This fucking video will go viral._  Then he thought,  _That was fucking **awesome**._  
  
He looked down; she was reaching up, one hand bare inches away from the remote he held.  
  
“No!” he snapped. “ _Bad_  Shadow Stalker!” Pressing the button for Stop, he stepped back away from her. All the restraints buzzed, and she froze, one hand uplifted, white splatters slowly making their way down her face and body.  
  
Turning to face the camera, he tucked himself away, and grinned with glee. “Well,” he said. “All I can say is, she’s one hell of a fine cocksucker. All my time, effort, shit like that, all worth it for that one blowjob.” He pointed a remote at the camera. “See you next time. This is Electromaster, signing off.”  
  
Turning to face her, he stretched, rotating his back and neck. “Well,” he said, “dunno about you, but I’m beat. Then again, I just got my cock sucked by a real hottie.” He frowned as he turned to the computer. “Fuck. I have to edit and package this. Ah well.”  
  
Turning back to Sophia, who was still stuck with one arm in the air, he clicked a few buttons. “That was very naughty of you, Sophia. For that, you’re on Slow until you get in the cage.”  
  
She nodded carefully. She’d tried and failed.  _Shit happens._  
  
So she got up carefully and moved slowly back toward the cage _. Get my gear and go. Get my gear and go_.  
  
She entered the cage, and bent to pick up her costume.  _Fuck putting it back on. Get out of this place first._  
  
But when she turned to go, the wall of the cage was back in place.  
  
“Hey!” she shouted.  
  
He swivelled his chair around. “What?” he asked.  
  
“You said you’d let me out of the cage if I sucked your cock! I sucked it! Now let me out of the fucking cage!”  
  
“But I  _did_  let you out of the cage,” he pointed out. “I let you out so you could suck my cock. And very worth it, it was too. But now you’re back  _in_  the cage.”  
  
The meaning of his words landed on her like a ton of bricks. “No!” she screamed. “You said you’d let me out!”  
  
He grinned that dorky grin, the one that made her want to obliterate his face with a shotgun. “ _Silly_  Shadow Stalker. You  _chose_  to believe that’s what I meant. Do I look stupid?” He chuckled. “You do. But really hot, too.”  
  
And he turned back to his computer, while she stood there, semen drying on her face and breasts, holding her discarded costume.


	3. Interlude 1: Trigger Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback to when Taylor Hebert triggered.
> 
> It involves rape. You have been warned.

 Just before Christmas Break:  
  
“Hey, check out what I got!”  
  
Emma and Sophia crowded around Madison as she opened her school bag. Emma gaped. “What the fuck?”  
  
Sophia stared. “Is that what I think it is?”  
  
Madison grinned. “A cousin of mine gave it to me. I was thinking, we leave it in Taylor’s locker so that when she opens the door, it falls out, and everyone sees it. It’ll go around the school like wildfire.”  
  
“No ...” said Sophia. “I have a better idea ...”  
  
  
Just after Christmas Break:  
  
“Here she comes!”  
  
“Shhh!”  
  
Emma held the door open just a crack. It was the first day back from Christmas Break, and everything was chaos. Anything could happen on a day like this day.  
  
***  
  
Taylor Hebert strolled along the hall in the direction of her locker. She hadn’t seen Emma, Madison or Sophia today, yet, which didn’t mean much.  
  
She passed by a janitorial storage cupboard.  
  
“Now!”  
  
The door opened. Taylor yelped as she was dragged inside. She struggled, but there were three of them to one of her, and they had hold of her arms. But just before the door closed to shut out all light, just before the evil-smelling bag was dragged over her head, she caught sight of a profile, an eye, a wave of hair.  
  
 _Sophia._  
  
Her arms were dragged behind her and tied tightly with wire. She was pushed forward roughly over a bench or table of some sort. Her jeans were yanked down, her panties torn away. Hands gripped and pulled her thighs apart.  
  
She struggled, screamed inside the bag, couldn’t move, couldn’t get away.  
  
A tearing pain, something thrusting, intruding, impaling. She screamed again, louder. It barely reached the door to the closet.  
  
***  
  
The light was on now; Emma and Madison, fascinated, watched as Sophia brutally raped Taylor, using Madison’s strap-on dildo. She had stripped her clothes off for the occasion; her explanation was that Taylor would likely bleed, and she didn’t want any evidence on her clothes. Her firm, lithe body was ebon-dark in the light of the weak globe overhead; muscles bunched and clenched as she held Taylor’s hips firmly, thrusting hard into her.  
  
If Emma and Madison had private opinions as to the real reason for her stripping down, they kept those to themselves.  
  
Taylor screamed and begged and writhed and struggled, to no avail. Blood flowed down her thighs from her violated vagina, the hymen well and truly torn. Other injuries had occurred here and there as well, from Sophia’s brutal assault.  
  
Sophia, panting, slowed and then stopped her assault on Taylor. Emma had one hand to her mouth, as if she were either disgusted by it or perhaps aroused. Madison was peering through her spread fingers, as if hiding from the reality of it. She would not want the plastic penis back.  
  
“I don’t think she’s had enough yet,” said Sophia. Pulling the dildo from Taylor’s ravaged pussy, she began to force it into her ass. Taylor struggled and attempted to scream, but her throat was raw, and was barely audible from inside the bag.  
  
“Uh, Sophia, maybe she  _has_  had enough,” ventured Emma.  
  
“Really?” asked Sophia. “You going soft on me? Madison, what do you think?”  
  
“I – I thought we’d just feel her up a bit, scare her, embarrass her, maybe steal her clothes,” Madison ventured. “I didn’t know we’d do  _this_.”  
  
“Well, we’re doing this, and you’re a part of it too,” said Sophia. “You too, Emma.” She unstrapped the dildo, holding it out to Emma. “In fact, you can finish the job.”  
  
“M-me?” asked Emma. “Why  _me?”_  
  
“Because Madison brought the dildo, and I just did her cunt,” said Shadow Stalker bluntly. “We need to make sure no-one talks about this. So you do her ass, and do a proper job of it.” She gave Emma a hard stare. “Unless you  _are_  going soft.”  
  
“Fuck you,” said Emma. “I’m not soft. I’m a survivor.”  
  
She took the dildo and went to buckle it on over her clothes.  
  
“You’ll want to strip off first,” said Sophia.  
  
“Why?” asked Emma.  
  
Sophia pointed. The dildo was smeared with blood – Taylor’s blood – almost to where it met the straps. “Don’t want that shit on your clothes. Blood typing will tie this to us. Better do it naked.”  
  
“Fine.” Emma handed the plastic cock back to Sophia and disrobed. Her body was quite luscious; a firm, shapely figure and proud, jutting breasts had given her a few modelling contracts.  
  
Once naked, Emma strapped the dildo to her hips, and approached Taylor.  
  
***  
  
Inside the bag, Taylor could hear little. There was the mumble of voices, but nothing she could make out. Maybe it was over. Maybe they would leave her alone now.  
  
And then the agony started again.  
  
***  
  
Emma took hold of Taylor’s hips and shoved the dildo hard into her ass. The tight pucker resisted at first, but then gave way, and she forced it inside, as Taylor writhed and begged and screamed again, her voice nearly an incoherent jumble of sound.  
  
Emma did not look at Taylor as she forcibly raped her ass; instead, she locked eyes with Sophia.  _See_ , she was saying with her eyes.  _I’m not weak. I can do this._  
  
***  
  
Sophia watched avidly, her hand between her thighs, rubbing at herself. She wasn't gay - the sight of Taylor Hebert's skinny body did nothing for her - but seeing her humiliated, raped, violated, gave her such a rush.  
  
She rubbed herself harder.  
  
Partway through, Sophia seemed to sag, and her eyes closed for a moment. Emma thought with relief,  _Okay, she's got her rocks off. Now I can stop._  
  
But Sophia opened her eyes and said irritably, "Keep going. She's still struggling."  
  
She had no idea what had just happened. Her eyes dared anyone to mention it.  
  
Emma kept going. Right now, she was more scared of Sophia than of the potential consequences.  
  
And as for Sophia masturbating ... none of them would mention  _that_  little detail, ever again.  
  
Some things were better forgotten.  
  
***  
  
When Taylor was barely moving, Sophia said, “Okay.  _Now_  she’s had enough.”  
  
“Okay,” said Emma. “What do we do with her?”  
  
“Take her pants,” said Sophia cruelly. “Even if she gets loose and takes the bag off, she can’t just wander the halls with no pants on.”  
  
Emma took a deep breath, and helped work Taylor’s jeans from her ankles; she rolled them up and put them in her pack.  
  
“And the ... thing?” asked Madison.  
  
“Bag it,” replied Sophia, producing a large plastic bag from her pack. “We can trash it once we’re well away from the school.”  
  
“And what about Taylor herself? If she falls down from there, she might hurt herself,” asked Madison. Sophia bent a glare upon her.  
  
“She has a point,” Emma said. “If she falls and hits her head and dies, that’s murder.”  
  
“... fine,” said Sophia. They lifted Taylor down from the table, lay her in an approximation of the recovery position.  
  
“Here,” said Sophia to Emma. “Check me for blood. I’ll check you.” She handed Emma some disposable paper towelettes, the moist kind.  
  
Careful checking found several droplets on both Emma and Sophia, which were handily dealt with. Madison cracked the door while Emma and Sophia dressed and donned their packs again.  
  
“Okay,” said Sophia. “Coast clear?”  
  
“Looks like it,” said Madison. “You go. Emma and I will be right behind you.”  
  
Sophia nodded and slipped out. Madison looked at Emma with frightened eyes. “I didn’t know she was going to do that!” she whispered harshly. She looked as though she was going to be ill.   
  
Emma didn’t look much happier. “But it’s done. We have to go on. That’s something I’ve learned.”  
  
“And Taylor?” asked Madison. “What will she do ... after this?”  
  
“I don’t know,” said Emma. “I’m not Taylor.” She opened the door and slipped out.  
  
Madison went back to Taylor, bent over her, undid the wire binding her wrists. Taylor barely seemed to notice; she didn’t move more than to twitch and make some incoherent noise inside the bag.  
  
Madison desperately wanted to remove the bag, make her more comfortable, but she dared not. She was part of this, for good or ill.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
And then she opened the door and slipped out.  
  
***  
  
Taylor Hebert was found twenty-five minutes later, after someone slipped an anonymous note under the door of the principal’s office. She was admitted to the hospital with injuries consistent with severe sexual assault, as well as considerable mental trauma.  
  
A police investigation was launched, but every single male member of the faculty could account for his whereabouts at the time, as could every male student. No skin, hair or fluid samples were found on her body or clothes; she had not had a chance to fight back hard enough. The investigation finally stalled on lack of evidence.  
  
The school paid off Danny Hebert for the criminal assault on his daughter on school property, but refused any farther liability. Taylor Hebert eventually recovered enough and left the hospital, returning to school.  
  
Sophia and the other two left her alone for a while, but in the end, they could not resist starting up the bullying campaign once more.  
  
***  
  
During her trigger event, which happened partway through the rape, Taylor’s mind moved into the massmind of the insects around her, in order to escape what was happening to her. Before she came to a true understanding of what was going on, her body was taken to the hospital and out of her range. At this point, it fell into a coma and had to be put on a respirator. The hospital staff thought that this was due to the shock of the injuries. After three days, she found her way back to her body, and 'woke up'.  
  
Two weeks later, her outward injuries healed (although Sophia's vicious assault had damaged and scarred her womb to the point that she could never conceive) she left the hospital, and resumed her 'normal' life. But there was a spark gone from her; she never laughed, never raised her head, never spoke above a low mumble.  
  
In time, she took on the costumed identity of the villain Skitter, attacked Lung (in a somewhat transparent suicide attempt), and was saved by the Undersiders.  
  
She never did tell anyone about whose face she had seen in the janitorial cupboard.  
  
But nor did she forget.


	4. Shifting Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow Stalker begins to adapt to her changed circumstances.

 "You realise,  _dipshit,"_  said Shadow Stalker as she refastened her bra - the drying cum on her breasts was an irritation, but she was not about to ask him for any favour such as washing water - "that you just broadcast the sexual assault of a minor  _and_  a Ward  _and_ a pretty girl across the Internet. In short, yeah, you got your rocks off, but you probably just told anyone who's looking that I'm a prisoner and gave them lots of clues as to where I am."  
  
"Oh yeah, I did, didn't I?" said Electromaster, sounding not at all concerned. He watched her put her top on. "Hey, I could pay you to take that off again," he offered.  
  
"Seriously, dipshit, you don't have enough money for that,"  
  
His dorky grin returned; she realised anew exactly how much she hated it with a passion. "You know those seventy-one thousand watchers? There's an internet subculture that gets off on pics and video of capes being humiliated, raped, tortured, killed on camera. Especially young, attractive ones. Like that dickhead who wanted me to cut off your fucking nipples. What a fucking moron. Your tits need to be perfect."   
  
He shrugged. "Don't look at me; some people are just nuts. I'd never do anything permanent to you; I'm having too much fun. But a tame one like that? It'll get me a dollar a viewer, maybe. That's for the raw stuff with everything left in. I'll be sending out edited packages for the general public, blurring faces, and making it almost look like some fan-made stuff. It'll also have music, voice over, shots of you taking off your bra in slo-mo, instant replay of the cumshot, shit like that. This is gonna make me a fucking  _mint._ Win-win, baby."  
  
He paused. "So yeah, I got money to burn.". He paused expectantly.  
  
"Not a fucking hope in hell," Sophia replied bluntly.  
  
He actually seemed to cheer up at that. "That's more like it!  _That's_  the Sophia Hess that every boy in the school wants to fuck slowly from behind. And some of the girls too, come to think of it." He paused, musing. "Now, if I could get video of  _that_  ..." he looked at Sophia. "I don't suppose I could interest you in doing a sex video with Emma and Madison? I promise you, the ratings would be fucking  _huge_. And I'd cut you in on some of the profits."  
  
"Not if it doesn't get me out of here, on the street, free and clear," she growled. It surprised her mildly that she was't actually shooting down the idea on the spot, but ...  _Would I fuck Emma and Madison to get out of this hellhole?_  
  
 _Fuck yes, I would._  
  
"Hmm. Or maybe a nice sweet one of you cuddling up to Taylor, apologising to her for everything that you ever did for her, and eating her out on camera?"  
  
She was beyond surprise now. Her thoughts were no longer  _How does he know,_  but  _Fuck,_ _how_ _**much**_ _does he know? Did Emma or Madison talk?_  
  
"Only if you brought her here, let me go, and kept her here," she replied shortly.  
  
"Eh," he said. "Maybe, maybe not. But back to payment. I will pay you to take your top off."  
  
She shook her head. "Not a hope in the fucking world. And could you get these fucking things off me? I can't get my gloves or boots on over them."  
  
"I don't think I will," he said casually. "But as for payment, I wasn't thinking of  _money_."  
  
She frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about then?"  
  
That  _fucking_ irritating dorky smile. "Are you thirsty?"  
  
\---  
  
It took her mind a few moments to process this, then her eyes went wide. "Oh, you fucking did not  _go_  there."  
  
"Sophia," he said. "Sweetheart. We  _are_  there. You depend on me for  _everything_. You may as well start paying your way."  
  
"Fuck you!" she shouted, hating how scared she sounded. She didn't know if it was the power of suggestion, but her throat was now very dry.  
  
He grinned again; she grit her teeth. "In a couple of days," he said cheerfully, "you'll be begging to suck my cock for the  _moisture_  content."  
  
She shivered. Despite her own resolve, she was beginning to get very scared.  
  
 _What if i just threatened to throw myself at the cage?_  she asked herself.  _Hold myself hostage._  
  
 _No_ , she decided.  _He might just call my bluff. And even if I did it, it might only knock me out. And then he'd have me unconscious in front of a camera, able to do **anything**  to me ... No, not worth it._  
  
\---  
  
The next morning, when she woke up from an uncomfortable sleep, her throat was parched. He wasn't there; however, he had left four plastic bottles of water, lined up outside the cage, not two yards away.  
  
At first, she was fine with it.  _A day without water?_  she told herself.  _Big deal. Anyone can do it._  
  
But an hour in, she was staring through the crackling wall of energy, fantasising about those bottles of water.  _If I tied my top to a boot, maybe I could swing it around and hook a bottle in._  But when used a boot to prod at the cage, she discovered that although the energy field only slightly charred the boot, the field also killed most of the kinetic energy on the object passing through it.  
  
***  
  
Two hours in, she was staring fixedly at the bottles, trying desperately to convince herself that telekinetic abilities were a valid offshoot of shadow powers.  
  
***  
  
Three hours in, and the air seemed like a furnace, every breath was agony, and the water was right there. She wanted it. She needed it. She had to have it.  
  
***  
  
Four hours in, she had reached a decision. She stripped off, lay waiting for him.  _When he comes in,_  she thought, trying to swallow against the parched feeling in her throat,  _I'll tell him he can have sex with me. Any way he wants to. Standing up, bent over his desk, putting his cock in my ass, I don't care. Just so long as I can have one bottle._  
  
But he didn't turn up.  
  
***  
  
By the fifth hour, she had begin to worry.  _What if he's been in an accident? What if he's told no-one where I am? What if he doesn't come back, and I die of thirst not two yards from water?_  
  
***  
  
Six hours in, she had decided that she would not only have sex with him once, but she would let him have sex with her any time.  _No strings. If he wants my ass, he gets my ass. If he wants me to suck him, I'll suck him. If he wants me to kneel naked next to his chair, he'll get me kneeling naked next to his chair._  
  
***  
  
Seven hours in, the temperatures were beginning to drop. She still desperately wanted that water. She wasn't so sure she would trade sex for just one - two, certainly, but not just one. A blowjob would be about right.   
  
***  
  
Eight hours in, she put her clothes back on. It was definitely getting cooler. She still ddn't have any water, but maybe she could make it now. Maybe.  
  
***  
  
Nine hours in, the worries about him being sick, hurt, killed - any of which would be catastrophic for her - returned.  
  
***  
  
Ten hours in, he entered the building. Sitting up, she called out immediately, "Hey!"  _Oh god I need that water._  
  
He turned to her politely.  _Oh, are you still here?_  
  
"Yeah?". His dorky grin was back.  
  
She had to ignore it. "If I take my top off ... do I get a bottle of water?". She hated the pleading tone in her voice, but she  _so_  wanted that water.  
  
"Sure!" he said, his grin widening. "Oh, and just in case you hadn't made the connection ... Four bottles, four items of clothing. I'm sure even  _you_  can do that math."  
  
She could. It was galling. But she was really so very thirsty.  
  
She took off her top.  
  
He opened the little slot in the bottom of the cage, and rolled a bottle through to her. She fell upon it, ripped the top off, and drank the contents down in one long swallow. It was so good, so very good.  
  
It also wasn't enough. Especially when he went to a bar fridge and got out one of his own, obviously chilled, water beading on its sides. She eyed it with something approaching sexual lust.  
  
He took the top off, elaborately not looking at her, and slowly drank down the contents. When he finished drinking, there was perhaps an inch in the bottom. He shrugged, and dropped the bottle in the trash. She could swear she heard the water in that bottle slosh as it fell in. Her guts clenched.  _How can he just **waste**  water like that?_  
  
She was already thirsty again.  
  
"Uh ... hey?" she ventured.  
  
He was sitting down in the chair again. Slowly, casually, so  _in power_ , he swivelled toward her. "Yeah?" he asked.  
  
"So ...  _Any_  item of clothes gets me a bottle of water?" she hated the pleading tone that was back in her voice.  
  
He nodded. "That's the deal."  
  
She licked her lips. "And .. one of the cold ones?"  
  
She was afraid he would ask for sex. She was afraid she would say yes.  
  
He held up two fingers. " _Two_  items. Or you do something to earn it."   
  
She was barely noticing the dorky grin now. She was negotiating for her life.  
  
"Such as?" she asked.  _Would I suck his cock again? Yes, I would._  Her stomach even gave a little clench as she remembered his comment about  _moisture content_.  
  
"Oh, put on a little bit of a show," he said. "Shake that ass. Wiggle those tits." He paused. "Or you could say please and thank you very nicely."  
  
Without taking her eyes from his, she stood up, then cupped her hands under her bra-clad breasts. Her strong fingers squeezed them, pushing them together, then pulling the bra down almost far enough for him to see her nipples, before letting it snap back into place. Then she did it again, but far enough for him to see her encircle her dark aureoles with thumb and forefinger, making them swell and harden.  
  
He was already on the edge of his seat, avidly watching. The camera was also swivelled her way; she could not give a shit. This was  _serious._  
  
She let the bra snap back into place, then ran her hands slowly and sensuously down her torso to the waistband of her pants. Teasingly, she hooked her thumbs in the pants, ran them around her waist, slowly edged them down, looking directly at him, licking her lips provocatively.  
  
Bending forward, she pulled her bra away from her body far enough that he could see her breasts hanging free, then let it snap back into place once more. Then she reached down to her ankles and ran her hands up her calves, over her thighs, her nails tracing patterns on the fabric. Standing up and arching her back, she trailed both hands over her crotch and up to her breasts once more.  
  
Then she turned around and slowly began to work her pants down over her hips and buttocks, looking back past her legs so that he could see her face. This afforded him a rather excellent view, as her only underwear below the waist was a rather skimpy thong. She literally heard his breathing change as he realised this.  
  
Slowly, teasingly, feeling in power for the first time since she got into all this shit, she eased the pants down and stepped out of them, caressing her thighs and calves as she went. And then she straightened up, flexing her buttocks for his benefit, running her hands over her thighs and digging her nails into her buttocks, squeezing them together and then pulling them apart so that he could see the strap of the thong running between her ass cheeks. She ran her finger up and down that strap a couple of times, then slid the finger under it, pulled it right out of her ass crack, then let it fall back into place. Then she turned around to face him, hands cupping her breasts once more, legs apart so that he could see right to the juncture of her thighs.  
  
She knew that the thong only just barely covered her from the front, and did not hide at all the fact that she was shaved smooth. She didn't care; right now, her survival was a far greater priority.  
  
"Well?" she asked throatily. "What does  _that_  earn me?"  
  
Hands literally shaking, he brought no less than  _four_  bottles of chilled water, and rolled them to her, one at a time. While she sat on the floor and opened the first one, he turned his chair back toward the computer monitor. The chair began to shake.  
  
After a moment, she realised that he was masturbating furiously to the replay of her little show. She shrugged; she didn't really care. Slowly, carefully, she took the cap off one bottle after another, and almost sensuously drank the contents down.  
  
They were  _delicious_.


	5. Interlude 2: Responses and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Director Piggot's reaction to Shadow Stalker's 'defection'. Also, the death of a major character, and other things as well.
> 
> This chapter includes incest and murder. You have been warned.

 Piggot slammed her fist on the desk with a loud bang. “It’s not good enough. I want her found now!” She was angrier than Hannah had ever seen her before.  
  
“Look, I’m sorry,” said Miss Militia. “We’re doing our best. But she covered her tracks really well. We got a partial ping on her locator beacon, showing up in Boston. Our people on the ground there are combing the area.”  
  
“Make sure they know her weaknesses,” growled Piggot. “And make sure they are primed to take her down hard if necessary. She’s gone far over the line this time.”  
  
Miss Militia nodded. “Is there a kill order in place?”  
  
“Not yet,” said Piggot. “But one report of a violent crime – just one – and that will change.”  
  
“Understood, Madam Director,” said Miss Militia, turned on her heel and left.  
  
***  
  
“I need to speak to you, now,” snapped Emma.  
  
Madison stared at her. “What? What’s the matter?”  
  
 _“Now,”_  repeated Emma, taking Madison by the hand and hauling her into the nearest quiet, private area. This happened to be the art storage cupboard.  
  
Madison turned to her, her expression worried. “What’s the matter?” she repeated.  
  
“This,” said Emma, showing her the phone. She scrolled through the texts, watching Madison’s face slacken with surprise, until she reached the part about Madison herself.  
  
“But – that’s not – I didn’t ... “ Madison stared at her. “Someone must be pranking you. Sophia isn’t that way ...”  
  
“Really?” asked Emma. “Remember Taylor?”  
  
She didn’t need to say any more. They both remembered Sophia’s behaviour when Emma had been thrusting the dildo into Taylor’s ass.  
  
“But –  _I’m_  not like that!” protested Madison.  
  
“Oh no?” asked Emma. She’d been thinking about this. “I’ve seen you watching me. On the sports field. In the showers. While we were changing. You’ve been checking me out.”  
  
Madison shook her head dumbly. She backed up against the shelves. Emma was scaring her. She remembered all too vividly that Emma had also brutally raped Taylor. And now she was alone, in a confined space, with her. And to her terrified mind, Emma’s accusations sounded like invitations. She began to shake.  
  
“Please ...” she whispered. “Please, don’t ...”  
  
Emma came close to her, looming over her. “I got a call from Director Piggot of the PRT, about Sophia.”  
  
Madison was confused. “What does the PRT want with Sophia?”  
  
“Because Sophia,” said Emma patiently, “is Shadow Stalker.”  
  
Madison took that in. “Oh,” she said.  
  
“Yes, oh,” replied Emma. “She wanted to know what was up between me and Sophia, because she got a death threat from Sophia because of me apparently not ‘wanting’ her. So it’s not just a prank. It’s real.” She leaned forward, her face just inches from Madison’s. “So I need to know,” she whispered.  
  
Madison closed her eyes tight.  _She’s going to kiss me, and then try to rape me if I don’t cooperate,_  she thought wildly. She recalled again Emma’s pale-skinned hips thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, raping Taylor’s defenseless ass.  _I don’t want to be that._  
  
Desperately, she grabbed Emma and kissed her.  _If I’m willing, maybe she won’t rape me._  
  
Emma was startled but not surprised when Madison kissed her. It was the proof of her suspicions, the proof that the text messages were true. It also repulsed her.  
  
“Get  _off_  me!” she snapped, shoving Madison away, and slapping her. She stepped forward, grabbing for Madison’s collar, intending to shove her up against the shelves. In the dim light and uncertain movement, one hand found her collar; the other closed on Madison’s left breast.  
  
Madison jolted back against the shelves again. Emma was grabbing her, assaulting her, squeezing her breast.  
  
 _Oh christ, she’s going to rape me,_  she thought.  
  
Her hands acted without her volition, grabbing the first thing that she found, and holding it out in front of her for protection.  
  
The woodworking chisel was long and thin, with a carefully sharpened tip. It was designed to add fine detail to a piece of carpentry. It punched through Emma’s blouse and parted the skin just below her left breast, sliding between two ribs. It was long enough to reach a vital organ; in this case, the heart.  
  
Emma stopped, her hands falling to her sides. She looked down at where Madison still held the handle of the chisel. “Fuck,” she said. Then she fell to her knees. The chisel slid out of the wound that it had created. Madison looked down at it, dropped it, and screamed.  
  
***  
  
The police came and took her away, in hysterics. Emma was also taken away, but died en route to the hospital and could not be resuscitated. Madison spilled her story out, how they had assaulted Taylor Hebert in January, how Sophia had taken the lead and stripped off to do it. How she had insisted that Emma take her clothes off as well while she raped Taylor, how she had masturbated, watching. How Emma wanted to rape Madison, had indeed tried to do so.  
  
Ten minutes into her confession, the police officer in charge called Director Piggot. Half an hour later, she was repeating her story over again to a PRT representative. Medical files were called up, confirming the severity of Taylor Hebert’s injuries.  
  
Taylor Hebert was driven from the school to the police station. Danny Hebert was also called in from his work, to be with her. With him in the room, the police very gently asked her a series of questions. No, she didn’t know who had done it. No, she had not seen or heard anything. Yes, it could be the three girls, but she could not know for sure. Her voice was dull, lifeless. When they ran out of questions, she asked if she could go, still in that same flat, grey voice.  
  
The police officer watched her walk out of the room, her father at her side, and his heart was full of rage for people who could do such a thing to a girl like that.   
  
He turned to the PRT rep. “Can you tell me one thing?” he asked.  
  
“What’s that?” said the PRT rep.  
  
“When they catch this Hess bitch, what’s going to happen to her?”  
  
“Kill order, I’d say,” said the PRT rep. “Director Piggot’s already pissed off as hell.”  
  
 _“Good,”_  said the police officer. “I have a daughter just that girl’s age ... fuck, I’d hate to think about something like that happening to her.”  
  
***  
  
“Kill order is confirmed,” said Director Piggot. “If you see her, no mercy. No surrender. She has dragged our name far enough through the mud as it is. We make an example out of her.”  
  
The PRT officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He had also seen the files. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his voice.  
  
***  
  
Taylor didn’t feel like going back to school; in any case, the place was swarming with police. So Danny took her home. She went straight upstairs, took off all her clothes, and stepped into the bath. She showered with water so hot that it scalded her skin, and she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed.  
  
After fifteen minutes, Danny noticed the billows of steam rolling down the stairs; concerned, he went upstairs to see what was happening.  
  
The bathroom door was wide open; he frowned and stepped inside. Her clothes were lying in a heap on the tiles, steadily being soaked by the water spraying past the open curtain. Taylor was standing under a deluge of water so hot he felt uncomfortable just standing near it. She wasn’t making a sound; but she had one leg up on the edge of the tub, and she was using the harsh brush that Danny usually used to clean the grouting, to scrub at her crotch. Danny saw blood trickling down her thigh from the force of the scrubbing and the harshness of the bristles.  
  
“Oh, Christ.”  
  
Danny reached in and took the brush from her hand. She didn’t resist, but started clawing at her labia with her nails instead. Hastily, he turned the water off, then took her wrists in his hands and guided her from the shower.  
  
She stood dumbly as he dried her down, holding her arm up when he raised it, allowing him to part her legs just long enough to pat her thighs dry. He decided against a dressing; it just looked as though she had taken the skin off in some places. The bleeding had already stopped, in any case.  
  
He guided her, naked, along the corridor to her room, where he sat her on the bed and tried to find something for her to wear.  
  
Eventually, he helped her into a light singlet and a pair of loose boxers, pulled back the covers, and lifted her legs in. It was like moving the limbs of a doll.  
  
Her eyes closed; he gently kissed her forehead and pulled down the shades.  
  
 _Maybe she can rest now,_ he thought.  
  
He was almost at the door, when she spoke.  
  
“Dad.”  
  
He was back beside the bed before he was aware he had moved. “Yes, Taylor?”  
  
“Sophia did it,” she said. “I saw her.”  
  
“You did?” he asked. “Why didn’t you ...?”  
  
“Because who would believe me?” she asked. There was animation in her voice now, bitterness, yes, but animation all the same. For the first time since January.  _Oh, thank God._  
  
He sat on the side of the bed. She put her hand on his lap. He took it. For the first time since January.  
  
“You’re probably right,” he said. “Alan Barnes would have fought it. Like he fought the other stuff.”  
  
She squeezed his hand. “I love you, Dad,” she said. “I know I haven’t shown it much, but I love you. Thank you for being there for me.”  
  
“I love you too, kiddo,” said Danny, a great warmth spreading from his heart.  
  
Taylor held his hand tightly. “Now that I know what happened that day, it makes a lot of difference. I thought that men crept into the school, caught me, did it, and left. Or one of the men who works there, someone lied to protect him. But now I know who it was, why they did it ...”  
  
Danny nodded. “I hope it helps.”  
  
Taylor shuddered. “I feel like I’ve just got to scrub it all away. Scrub away what happened to me. And I can’t scrub hard enough.” A whimper caught in her throat. “I  _can’t.”_  
  
“Oh, Taylor,” he replied, “you can’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”  
  
“I can’t help it,” Taylor whispered. “It’s  _there_ , and it’s bad, and I can’t get away from it.” She clutched at his arm. “Hold me, Dad. Stop me from trying. I can feel myself wanting to scratch, claw at myself. Help me.  _Please.”_  
  
“Of course, honey,” he said readily. Without even thinking about it, he stripped down to his underwear, and climbed into bed with his daughter.  
  
She came readily to his arms, as she had not done so for months, and he held her tightly. Her arms went around him, and she nuzzled her face into his shoulder. He felt her hard breasts pressing against his chest, and her leg curling over his, and he had to fight his instinctive arousal.  
  
He felt her moving, restless, and he said, “What’s up, Taylor?”  
  
Her hand appeared above the covers with the singlet top. “This is too hot. I had to take it off.” Then she snuggled up to him again, her bare breasts pressing against his chest.  
  
He began to feel uncomfortable. “Taylor ...”  
  
“Dad,” she whispered, “please help me.” He realised she was grinding her crotch against his leg, harder and harder.  
  
 _This is wrong,_ he thought _. I can’t do this. This is going too far._  
  
“Dad,” she whispered. “Emma and Sophia made my vagina into a bad place. I need to make it into a good place.” With a shock, he felt her hand reach into his underwear and cradle his growing erection. “I need you to make it into a good place for me.”  
  
“Taylor,” he said, “I can’t do this. This is wrong.”  
  
“More wrong than what they did to me?” she asked, real pain in her voice. “You do know I can’t ever have children?”  
  
“Yes.” He had seen the medical reports. “The scarring ... Sophia ...”  
  
 _“Yes,”_  she replied fiercely.  _“She_  did that to me.” She took his hand, slid it down her body – with another shock, he realised that she had also wriggled out of the boxers, and that he was in bed with his naked daughter. She pressed his hand to her sex, her thighs opening wide. He felt the warmth, the wetness. Quite against his volition, his finger dipped into her; she drew in a breath. “Oh!”  
  
“Taylor ...” he tried again, but it was a losing battle. He was quite hard by now, her hand gripping him, sliding back and forth.  
  
With a sigh, he removed his underwear.  
  
***  
  
He lay back on the bed, the covers thrown back, looking up as Taylor poised herself over him. She was beautiful, slender, his own little girl ... and he was about to put his penis in her vagina.  
  
She had wanted him to climb on top of her, but he had insisted that if they were going to do it, that she be on top, so she could control the level of penetration.  
  
She looked down, and began to lower herself on to the head of his penis. He groaned as the warm slickness of her labia enfolded him; she lowered herself farther, moaning as he penetrated her.  
  
Danny had not had many lovers, but Taylor’s pussy was quite the tightest one that he had ever encountered. The look on her face was halfway between concentration and pain, but she was pushing herself down on to him steadily.  
  
She couldn’t believe she was doing this, making love with her own father, but with the turmoil of emotions that had been thrown up by the death of Emma Barnes and the arrest of Madison Clements, she was not at all sure that this was not the right thing to do. If she let things go as they were, she would continue to scrub the bad place out of her body. But if her father could make it a good place ...  
  
She supposed that she could ask Brian or Regent to do this for her, but as far as she could tell, Brian treated her as kid sister, and Regent only had eyes for Aisha.  
  
 _Maybe Greg?_  she thought.  _I think he’s interested in me._  
  
But Greg had been skipping classes. So maybe not.  
  
So it came down to asking her own father to do the deed, to ‘unrape’ her in a sense.  
  
She had no idea how she felt about that, but she was going to do it anyway.  
  
She felt his penis sliding up inside her. She wanted to tense up, to push him out of her, but she knew that trying would hurt. As it was, this felt nothing like what had happened in January; it wasn’t really nice yet, but nor was it painful.  
  
There was a soft bump; she looked down with surprise to see that her tightly-stretched labia were resting on either side of the very base of his penis.  
  
“Wow,” she said. “That feels really ... full.”  
  
Danny looked up at her, unable to speak. He felt that he was about to explode at any minute, spurt his come into her soft wet slickness. He reached up and caressed her breasts; she breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation. “You can start moving, once you’re used to it,” he suggested.  
  
She nodded, and began moving up and down, slowly and carefully. Her eyes began to open wider and wider. He rubbed and tweaked her nipples.  
  
“Oh god, Dad,” she said, “oh god, it feels so good!”  
  
She started feeling the first thrills of pleasure, of enjoyment, as she slid up and down on her father’s erect penis, rocking her hips slightly.  
  
“Rub your clitoris, kiddo,” he said, and she obediently did so, sending a blast of pleasure through her groin.  
  
“Oh ... dad ... oh god ... Dad ... Dad ... fuck me, Dad ... oh god ... yes ...” she moaned, sliding up and down faster and faster on his long penis. He felt the climax building in his balls, and tried his best to hold it back. He rubbed her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to arch her back in pleasure.  
  
She was halfway through the downstroke when the orgasm hit her, and she slammed on to his cock like a dropped brick. Her vaginal walls were clenching, and she cried out as violent shudders racked her body.  
  
Two more strokes, and Danny came as well, his swollen cock spurting load after load of semen up into his daughter’s scarred womb.  
  
She collapsed forward on to him, and he took her in his arms, rolling her sideways and letting his penis slip from her vagina. He made a fast visual check; there was only a slight reddening. Even the torn skin from before had not reopened.  
  
Kissing her gently, he held her close.  
  
Slowly, she opened her eyes, and smiled at him. He blinked. “You have a beautiful smile, Taylor.” That was another thing that he hadn’t seen since January.  
  
She kissed him, a little inexpertly. “Thank you for that, Dad.”  
  
He held her tightly. “I’m still not sure that we should have done that.”  
  
“Well, it worked,” she said. “I can think clearly for the first time in forever. And I’m not scared of my own vagina anymore.”  
  
He held her close. “You do realise that we should not do this any more, right?”  
  
She giggled and ran her hand down his body. “Maybe once in a while?”  
  
“Taylor, you are a bad, bad girl. Okay, maybe once in a while.”  
  
She held him close. “Just make me one promise.”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
“Never from behind.”  
  
He kissed the top of her head. “Promise.”  
  
***  
  
As she lay in her father’s arms, drifting lazily, Taylor felt the tight knots that had constrained her emotions falling free. She had consructed the Skitter persona, and that had helped a bit, but it had not helped who Taylor Hebert was. It had taken this step to do that.  
  
 _I’m going to go shopping with Lisa_ , she decided.  _She wants to help me buy nice clothing. Let’s buy nice clothing._  
  
As she drifted closer to sleep, a thought occurred to her.  _Sophia never left Brockton Bay._  
  
She had no idea why she had that thought, but she fixed it in her mind.  
  
 _In the morning,_  she told herself _, I’ll start looking. If she’s here to be found, I’ll find her._  
  
 _Emma’s dead, Madison’s in custody. There’s only Sophia left._  
  
 _I’m going to make her **pay.**_


	6. Things Fall Apart; the Centre Cannot Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia finds out who her captor is, and even begins to make some headway toward a better situation. Until something happens.

A few hours later, Sophia was roused from a light sleep by hearing her name called.  
  
She sat up, looking around a little muzzily, at the all-too-familiar surrounds of the cage.  
  
“What?” she asked. “What’s up? What did I do?”  
  
 _Please God I didn’t do anything wrong,_  she prayed.  _Life in this cage sucks badly enough without being zapped for it too._  
  
“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” said Electromaster. “It’s just that you don’t look very sexy, or comfortable, lying there curled up on your clothes. I think you were crying a bit there, too.”  
  
She hurriedly scrubbed at her face, and wiped away a few treacherous tears. She also needed to blow her nose, too.  
  
“I can’t help it,” and she was appalled at the misery in her own voice.  _I’m stronger than this, dammit!_  But her inner rage did not help. “I’m hungry and tired and cold, and this floor really, really sucks to try to sleep on, and I agreed to take my clothes off, so you’ll zap me if I put them back on, and ...” She shut up before she started crying. Again.  
  
“Oh shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. Shit, of course you can put your clothes back on. I feel like a bit of a jerk now.” His voice actually held a certain level of remorse. She didn’t argue; she quickly grabbed her top and pulled it over her head, then stood up to climb into her pants. Then she wrapped her cloak around herself, and felt much better.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, sounding pathetically grateful even to her own ears.  _Fuck, don’t go thanking him! He’s the one who did this to you!_ And yet she felt gratitude toward him.  
  
“That’s okay,” he said. He paused. “When did you last eat?”  
  
She tried to think. At that moment, of course, her stomach growled horribly.  
  
“Uh ... maybe this time yesterday?”  
  
“Fuck, sorry, sorry!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to starve you!” He hurried out of sight, and she heard one of the most welcome sounds that she had heard in years – the sound of a microwave oven running.  
  
He came back in a moment. “I’ve got something in now. I hope you like chicken. At least it says it’s chicken. I’m always suspicious of anything they say is chicken.”  
  
Odours were beginning to drift to her nostrils. Her mouth watered alarmingly. “Chicken is fine, thanks,” she said.  _Fuck, did I just say ‘thanks’?_  
  
“Actually, is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked. “It’s just that I’ve got something going, and it won’t happen for another half hour.” He grinned. She didn’t even notice the dorky element, as another waft of odour of chicken something assaulted her nostrils and made her stomach growl quite loudly.  
  
“Um,” she said quite meekly, “could I have something to sleep on? Bare concrete is really not fun. Even a mat, or a bit of carpet, or something?” Her voice ended on a hopeful note.  
  
He blinked. “Shit, yes, of course. Wait right here, I’ll be right back.” He dashed for a side door.  
  
 _Well, I’m sure as shit not going anywhere,_  she concluded.  
  
The microwave had not finished its run, but from the odours Sophia was mentally constructing a six-part banquet with the centrepiece being a chicken that had an ostrich as a close ancestor. Electromaster came back, with a dilapidated-looking mattress floating on top of a bluish field of glowing energy, emitted from a gadget on his left wrist.  
  
“Uh, move to the side of the cage please,” he said. She did so. He pressed buttons on the remote, causing her restrain straps to all start buzzing. She froze.  _Don’t get zapped, don’t get zapped._  
  
He tapped a button on the other remote, and one cage wall vanished. Moving forward carefully, he levitated the mattress in, and deposited it on the floor in the middle of the cage area. Stepping back, he reactivated the cage wall, then the buzzing from her restraints ended.  
  
Without moving, she said, “Uh, am I on free movement or slow movement?”  
  
“Free movement,” he said. “Feel free to lie down.”  
  
She wasted no time in doing just that, luxuriating in the feel of springiness underneath. The mattress was old and the springs groaned, and one or two poked her a little, but to her it was the veriest of feather beds.  
  
“Oh god,” she said, “oh god, that’s nice.”  
  
“Is it okay?” he asked from outside the cage.  
  
She stood up. “I want to kiss you,” she said. “Can I kiss you?”  
  
He blinked, and tapped a few remote keys. “Okay,” he said, “but you’re on slow movement.” The cage wall vanished.  
  
“That’s okay,” she said. “I can manage.” She paused. “Do you want me to crawl to you?”  
  
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’s okay. Just walk.”  
  
Carefully, she walked over to him, and stood looking at him.  
  
“How  _old_  are you?” she asked, apropos of nothing.  
  
“Seventeen!” he said, his voice trying to suddenly sound manly.  
  
She smiled. “Well, I really appreciate the mattress. Seriously.” She put her hands behind her back to show that she had no ill intent, and leaned in toward him. He leaned toward her. She turned her face sideways to avoid the visor, and let her lips press against his.  
  
After a long moment, during which time he seemed to have been turned to stone, she stood upright again. “Thank you,” she said softly. Thank you for the mattress.”  
  
He seemed to be taken aback, as if he had not expected this. She stood watching him expectantly. He struggled for words. “I, uh, think you should get back in the cage,” he said. “Your dinner will be ready soon.”  
  
She took a deep breath. “Would I be able to eat out here, please?” she asked. “I really, really, really hate the inside of that cage.” She paused. “I’ll kiss you again, if you want.”  
  
 _My god,_  she thought,  _is the inside of his visor steaming up? He’ll be acquiring a spontaneous nosebleed next._  
  
“Antother kiss would be nice, thanks,” he said in a strangled voice.  
  
“Could I at least put my arms around you?” she asked softly. “I won’t try for the remote, I promise.”  
  
He smiled, stepped away, and pressed two buttons on the remote. Her ankle restraints started to buzz. Then he put the remote on the desk.  
  
“I’m good,” he said. He stepped up to her, closer than he had before. She put her arms around him, careful not to move her feet. Awkwardly, he put his arms around her. She moved her face to his, turning once more to avoid the visor. Their lips met; she pressed on his lips with more force, then slowly opened hers to tickle at his lips with her tongue. He seemed startled, but managed to clumsily kiss her back.  
  
The two kisses were the hottest, most amazing things that had happened to him ... well, since the blowjob, anyway. He had never kissed a girl that he wasn’t related to before, and he had certainly never kissed anyone like Sophia was kissing him now.  
  
His heart pounded.  _Is she actually coming to like me?_  
  
When she let him go, he stood there, rocking slightly, face red as a beetroot below the visor. She was sure that steam should have been leaking from his ears.  
  
Then the microwave  _dinged_ loudly. He jumped, as if shot.  
  
She smiled slightly. “Uh, that will be my meal.” She paused. “Is it okay if I eat out here?” She gestured to the ground next to the swivel chair. “I’ll be happy to sit on the floor. It’s sleeping on the floor that sucks.”  
  
“Uh, sure, I guess,” he said. “Go sit. I’ll freeze your belt once you’re settled.” He hit buttons to release her ankles.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, and was amazed at the amount of compliance in her voice.  _When did I get this weak?_  
  
She walked carefully over to the desk and sat down where she could lean her back against it. Making sure her legs were comfortable, she called out, “Ready.” The belt started buzzing.  
  
She leaned back and sighed at the level of comfort this gave her.  _Wow. Two days ago, I was bitching because the cafeteria undercooked my meal. Now look at me, trading kisses and stripteases for favours._  
  
Another sigh.  _If I’d just given him a blowjob right at the beginning, or a lap dance, I would have been out of here. Hell, I should have just let him take me to bed. He looks like someone who’d be over and done in about thirty seconds. As opposed to this shit I’ve been through – he could fuck me all he wanted. Once he came, I’d leave._  She giggled at the involuntary joke.  
  
He came back around and handed her the meal dish. “Careful, it’s hot.” She also got plastic cutlery with it.  
  
She didn’t care. She didn’t wait. She burned her mouth on the first mouthful, coughing and choking as it went down. Through the haze of pain, she felt something cold press into her hand. Blinking away the streaming tears, she found he had given her a chilled bottle of water. Gratitude arose in her, and she gulped the freezing liquid. Then she ate more chicken something.  
  
It was bland, unappetising and unimaginative. In short, a typical microwave meal. But it was also, without a doubt, the absolute best meal she had ever eaten.  
  
“Oh god, thank you,” she said, tears starting in her eyes as she finished the water. “That was wonderful.” She paused as a rumble occurred in her stomach.  
  
He glanced at her. “What’s up?”  
  
“Oh, uh, I think I will need to use the bathroom fairly soon,” she said. “Your meal just started something, and I don’t think it will end well.”  
  
“Oh boy,” he said, with his old dorky grin. She still found intensely irritating, but so long as he wasn’t being horny or creepy with it, she could stand it. He hit a few buttons, and the belt stopped buzzing. She climbed carefully to her feet.  
  
“Which way is it?’ she asked. Her stomach gurgled alarmingly.  
  
“Here, I’ll walk you there,” he said. Pressing buttons, he said, “Okay, you’re free to move. The bathroom’s over this way.”  
  
***  
  
The door didn’t lock, but she didn’t care. She sat down and let things happen. There were a great many sound effects. After a while, it seemed that the action was over, so she wiped and readjusted; as she stepped out of the cubicle, she happened to see a shower cubicle off to the side.  
  
“Oh god,” she said, “could I please have a shower? My hair feels like straw, and I feel grucky all over.”  
  
He must have recovered from the kiss, she thought. Because he gave her the horny dorky grin, and said, “Sure, if you let me film it.”  
  
She didn’t think about it for more than three seconds. “Deal.”  
  
***  
  
The shower was  _heaven_. She tried to pay no attention to the open shower door, and the camera just outside the cubicle, filming every movement, every detail. He had supplied generic shampoo and a large cake of soap, so fortunately she was able to keep herself covered in suds for quite a bit of the time, but sometimes there was just no way to prevent the supposed viewers from seeing quite a bit of her.  
  
In the end, she decided, she just didn’t care. They’d see what they saw, and it didn’t concern her.  
  
On the downside, the electronic restraint straps were apparently entirely water resistant.  
  
Electromaster reappeared from the other room. He leaned past the camera and said, “A lot of people are asking for you to play with yourself.”  
  
“What?” she said, sure she had water in her ears.  
  
“Play with yourself. Masturbate. Rub your pussy. Hot chicks in shower scenes do that, so they want you to do it.”  
  
“But ... I don’t ... usually,” she protested. He had been too nice, too considerate. She had been taken off guard.  
  
“Well, do it anyway,” he said; holding up the remote in mute threat.  
  
She suppressed a whimper –  _where the fuck did **that**  come from?_ – and turned to face the camera. Slowly she smiled, and licked droplets of water from her face. Then she cupped her breasts, pointing them at the camera, squeezing so that the nipples enlarged and hardened.  
  
From there, she ran her hands down her belly to her crotch, where she started rubbing, keeping her fingers outside her labia. With one hand fondling her breasts, and the other pretending to masturbate, she started faking signs of arousal and enjoyment.  
  
***  
  
It seemed to work; she didn’t get zapped, and he didn’t reappear to critique her performance. She finished on a simulated orgasm, slumping against the wall for a moment, before stepping out of the shower and grabbing the towel that he had supplied.  
  
He came back in at that moment, unashamedly watching her dry herself. Finally, she sighed and started to dry her hair, turning slowly around so that he could ogle her body all he liked.  _He’s basically seen it all **anyway** , _she decided.  _What can it hurt?_  
  
Still drying her hair, she walked out into the big room, leaving him to lug the camera back. She was actually kind of getting used to being naked or nearly so, and the state simply didn’t bother her anymore.  
  
“Oh, just from curiosity,” she said, “these strap restraint things. How long do they go between recharges?”  
  
“Oh, they’re recharging all the time,” he said. “It’s a science thing, called induction. All it needs is a nearby power source.” His dorky grin was back in full force.  
  
“Because you’re a Tinker,” she sighed wearily.  _God fucking dammit. I hate Tinkers._  
  
“Because I’m a Tinker,” he agreed. “Let me tell you, it’s so fucking awesome. I have all these great ideas for things, just rolling around in my head. And most of them are all about using electricity in ways other people can’t even figure out.”  
  
She discarded the towel and walked right up to him. “Well, Mr Tinker,” she said, bumping her firm breasts against his chest, “I believe you asked me for a lap dance, once upon a time. Is that still open?”  
  
He gulped. “Uh – um – yes?”  
  
“Good,” she purred. “I’ll just get my clothes then.” She nodded to the camera. “You get your viewing gallery sorted out, and we can start.”  
  
 _If I can blow him – and his mind – hard enough, I just might get some leverage here._  
  
She hated herself for thinking that way, but she was pragmatic enough to realise that her body, her sex, was the only weapon she had, so she had to hit him hard with it. As hard as she could.  
  
Going back to the open cage, she retrieved the cloak and the thong; it was all she needed for this. Settling the thong about her hips, she was amazed at how much more ‘dressed’ it made her feel. And then she put on the cloak; as an afterthought, she got the mask as well.  
  
 _If I give him a lap dance and a blow job, then let him fuck me, surely to God that will give me some leverage over him. I don’t believe any girl has ever kissed him before today, from his reaction. Getting the trifecta should have his brains dribbling out his cock._  
  
She  _stalked_  out of the cage, wrapped in the cloak so that only her mask showed. She moved slowly, menacingly, with purpose, as she had trained herself to do. She stalked him, as he sat in his large swivel chair. He watched her come, barely seeming to breathe. The camera followed her as well.  
  
When she was ten feet from him, she suddenly flared the cloak out, just to show how little she had on under it, then closed it again; it settled around her. She paused for a moment, her masked face glaring in eternal disapproval. Then she paced forward a couple more steps, and let the cloak fall open more naturally, exposing her from neck to toes, just showing her breasts and belly and thighs.  
  
 _Holy jesus fuck,_  thought Electromaster.  _She’s fucking awesome. This is spectacular. My ratings are gonna go intergalactic._  
  
Unsnapping the cloak, she let it fall away, then dropped the mask on top of it. Clad now only in a very skimpy thong, she sidled forward to kneel at his feet.  
  
“Do you want me to give you a lap dance?” she asked, her arms crossed on his knees, her chin on her arms.  
  
“Y-yes,” he blurted. “Please.”  
  
“Okay,” she said in a sultry tone of voice. She noted that his chair had movable arms, so she lifted them up as she stood. Then she straddled his lap, spreading her legs as wide as she could, bumping and grinding her ass into place.  
  
She had little to no idea how to give a lap dance, but then, he was unlikely to ever have gotten one, so she could pretty well play it by ear, she figured.  
  
As it was, he seemed plenty excited enough as it was. She wriggled her ass around on his lap, and sure enough there was a large lump right where it should be.  
  
“Is that a remote in your pocket,” she purred, “or are you just glad to see me?”  
  
To illustrate her point, she ground down on him with her soft pussy, and was rewarded with a groan bespeaking of intolerable torture.  
  
Leaning close, so that her firm rounded breasts pushed against his chest, she whispered in his ear, “I want to give you a lap dance, then give you a blow job, then if you want, you and I can christen that lovely mattress you gave me.”  
  
He blinked at that last.  _Fuck, is he **that**  much of a dork?_  
  
“I  _meant,”_  she said patiently, “that we can have sex on it.”  
  
“Oh,” he said.  _“Oh.”_  The lump under her suddenly got a good bit larger. She ground down again. He groaned again, under even more unimaginable torture.  
  
“You can play with my breasts if you like,” she murmured. “Or if you want, reach under me and I’ll sit on your hand.”  
  
 _Fuck, if this ever gets out,_  she thought,  _I’ll be more welcome on the Playboy channel than the Wards._  
  
 _Still, survival is survival._  
  
He seemed to be like a kid in a candy store with a charge card – he didn’t know what to go to first. He compromised; one hand started squeezing and twisting her left breast, while the other hand snaked under her; she clamped her thong-clad pussy over it and ground down. She had to bite her lip not to protest at the pain he was causing her.  _If I say it hurts, he might do it more, for shits and giggles. Let him think he’s doing fine._  
  
Then he tried to lean down to apply his mouth to her breast, and his helmet bumped her chin and got in the way. “Fuck,” he muttered.  
  
“Can I make a suggestion?” she asked, caressing his chest. “Take the helmet off. It will be much easier to kiss you like that.”  
  
He paused. “My secret identity –“  
  
“Turn the camera off, or stop the live stream,” she urged. She began rocking her hips, grinding down on his hand. His fingers wiggled, and one of them got past her thong and began exploring between her labia. She drew in a sharp breath.  
  
“R-right,” he muttered. Pulling the appropriate remote from his belt, he clicked a button, and a beep sounded from the camera. “I can blur out my face and send out a delayed broadcast,” he said. “Some of the viewers will be pissed, but if I can put out a lapdance, a blowjob and sex all one after the other, my ratings will skyrocket.”  
  
She smiled. “Well, if I don’t get to the blowjob soon, there’s something down here that’ll skyrocket as well.” She felt another finger slide into her, and she bit her lip. “So take the helmet off. I really want to kiss you, and feel you sucking my nipples.”  
  
 _Better than squeezing them like play-dough,_  she thought.  _That fucking **hurts**._  
  
Greg hesitated. There was an almost-naked woman on his lap, asking for him to remove the helmet so she could kiss him. There were so many good reasons for him to do just that. And she was right; if she didn’t get down to the task of a blowjob soon, he was going to make an awful mess in his pants.  
  
Reluctantly, he took his hand away from her breast and from under her, and undid his helmet strap. Then he lifted it away from his head.  
  
Sophia stared. Then she burst out laughing.  
  
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “Greg Veder? Dork Veder himself? Fuck, you’re Electromaster? Well, jesus fuck!”  
  
“You – you know me?” he asked.  
  
“Fuck yes, I know you,” Sophia said. “Emma and Madison and I made a list of all the huge fucking losers in the school. You made ... third place, I think. Behind Taylor and some other idiot.”  
  
“Hey, watch it,” he said warningly. “Taylor’s my friend. I like her.”  
  
She shrugged. This did interesting things with her breasts. “No accounting for taste. But hey, if you’d rather have her, be my guest.” She smiled and leaned in and pecked him on the lips. “But I believe I was offering a blowjob and a fuck. Still interested?”  
  
“Can I do you up the ass?” he asked eagerly.  
  
“Why don’t we start with the basics and go from there,” she said warily. He looked downcast. “But if you want, you can fuck me twice.” This brightened him up, but he still looked a bit moody.  _Fuck. I shouldn’t have laughed._  
  
She leaned in, wrapped her arms around him, and gave him a full-on lip-lock. He responded clumsily but enthusiastically, reaching down and grabbing her ass cheeks, and pulling her in closer to him.  
  
By the time she broke the kiss, she felt that the bulge under her had returned to its previous dimensions. Slithering down off the chair, so that her breasts rubbed all the way down his body, she knelt before the chair.  
  
She smiled up at him invitingly. “You want to get it out so I can suck it, Greg?” she asked. She was certainly no longer surprised at his apparent lack of experience.  _I think the only things with less experience than Greg live under a rock in the Himalayas or something. No wonder his brain locked up when I told him I’d suck him off then let him fuck me. He must think he’s dreaming._  
  
Internally, Greg Veder groaned.  _I was doing so much better as the mysterious menacing Electromaster, he told himself. Why did I let her talk me into taking my helmet off?_ Then he remembered the kiss, and figured it wasn’t all that bad.  _And she still wants to suck my cock and let me fuck her._  
  
 _Fuck, I can’t wait._  
  
He unzipped and spread his legs, to allow her access to his thickening cock. She leaned forward, and with no hesitation at all, started to suck on it. She’d had a lot of time to think about this, and had cold-bloodedly decided that if it came to this, she’d give him the best fucking blowjob of his life.  _Make him want me. Make him like me. Make him think of me as someone to keep around, be nice to._ Pride just didn’t come into it, not anymore.  
  
She still wasn’t very good at it, and the position was cramped and unweildy, but he’d just had her wriggling on his lap and kissing him. He lasted thirty seconds, then blew.  
  
This time, she recognised the signs, and was ready for it; she kept on sucking even as he went off, drawing out the orgasm, making him grasp at her head and cry out, shoving his cock into her mouth as he came.  
  
It tasted nasty, but she swallowed it all the same, making a show of licking her lips. “Mmm, Greg. That was nice.”  _Make him think he’s the greatest lover of all fucking time._  
  
He slumped back in the chair, breathing raggedly. And now she noticed that her ankle bands were buzzing, and the remote was well out of reach.  
  
 _Well, that was one idea._  
  
Leaning in, she made a show of kissing his cock, trying to suck it back to life. He still didn’t have much of an idea of genital hygiene _. If I’m going to be here a while, I might have to give him some tips._  
  
That last thought froze her in her tracks.  
  
 _Oh fuck, how long **am**  I going to be here?_  
  
Before she could dwell on it, he roused himself.  
  
“Holy fuck,” he muttered. “That was fucking insane.” He reached down and caressed her cheek. “You fucking rock at sucking cocks, Sophia.”  
  
“Hey,” she said lightly, “watch it with the secret identities.” She didn’t feel it the other part of his statement was worth arguing about. As demeaning as it was, it made him value her.  _And I’d rather be valued than dead._  
  
“You watch it with mine,” he retorted with that dorky grin. And yes, now that she could see his entire face, it was even dorkier as a whole.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said meekly, before she realised she was even goung to say it.  _The fuck is happening to me? I’m being **nice**  to this prick?_  
  
 _Well, I’m going to have to be nice to his **prick** , so my life here doesn’t become even shittier than it already is._  
  
He reached back for the remote and pressed the buttons to let her move her ankles. She rose, rubbing her knees, and posed in front of him, one leg out, arms up behind her head, chest outthrust. It was actually a pose she’d seen Emma practising for modelling, but it seemed appropriate. It certainly hit poor old Greg Veder between the eyes.  
  
“Well,” she purred, “shall we get to the main attraction?” Slipping the thong from her hips, she let it fall to the ground as she sidled away toward the cage, putting as much bump and grind into it as she could.  
  
 _I fucking hate myself for this. But go thirsty for a day, and your priorities rearrange awful fast. I just hope it’s over quick._  
  
“Oh hell yes,” he muttered, watching her dusky buttocks move away, their very action a promise and a seduction.  
  
He turned to the computer, entering new commands for the camera, which had turned to follow Sophia’s enticing progress, to zoom in and catch as much of the action as possible. He was just about to turn away when a news item signalled itself; just out of curiosity, he had set it to grab anything with Sophia’s name in it.  
  
 _I can’t wait. I’m gonna fuck her so hard._  
  
Almost automatically, he clicked on the link.  
  
And he read the article. It was breaking news. His eyes first snagged on the name Taylor Hebert. There was a picture, the heart-breaking image of Taylor on a respirator for the first three days of being in the hospital, when it wasn’t even sure if she’d surivive the horrifying attack. And then there was more. The identities of the attackers were known to police; Emma Barnes, deceased. Sophia Hess, otherwise known as Shadow Stalker, at large. A third attacker was in police custody, but had apparently not participated. She wasn’t named, but Greg knew who she had to be.  _Madison Clements._  
  
He read farther. The Hess house had been searched by police with a warrant. They had found evidence that directly linked Sophia with the attack. The inference was that it was whatever had been used to violate Taylor. Another warrant at the Barnes house had found a pair of Taylor’s jeans, missing since the attack.  
  
He sat back, stunned.  
  
 _Sophia Hess raped Taylor Hebert._  
  
Greg had  _liked_  Taylor. Although she was quiet and a little withdrawn, she was still very smart and occasionally fun to talk to when doing classwork ... and Sopha had killed her. In a very real way, the Taylor he had seen around school since was basically dead. Still walking, still breathing, but dead. No life in her.  
  
Anger surged in him. Rage. Fury.  
  
 _I will fucking **kill**  her._


	7. Interlude 3: A Brand New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Lisa are surprised by Taylor's transformation.

When Brian saw Taylor, his jaw literally dropped. He stared, blinked, finally realised that his mouth was hanging open, and then closed it again. “Wow, Taylor,” he said. “You look  _different.”_  
  
She smiled, walked right up to him, and gave him a peck on the lips. “Thanks, Brian,” she said sweetly. “I feel different.”  
  
Brian blinked again, then he frowned. “Alec!” he yelled. “Get the fuck in here!”  
  
“What?” Alec came into the room, glanced at Taylor, went to speak to Brian, then did a perfect double take. “Fuck me. Taylor, is that you?”  
  
Taylor giggled. Brian gave Alec a hard stare. “If this is you playing some sort of fucking joke with Taylor, you can quit it right now. Not fucking funny. Leave Taylor alone.”  
  
Alec held up both hands defensively. “Not me. I swear it. Whatever she’s doing, it’s all her.”  
  
Taylor nodded. Her hair was brushed back instead of hanging forward to obscure most of her face, and tied with a bright band. Instead of wearing dark, concealing bulky clothes to hide herself from the world, she instead had on a summer-print blouse and a sky-blue calf-length skirt. Even her posture was changed; up till now, she had been cautious, fearful of strangers, hunched over, skittish. Now, she had her head up, her eyes were bright, and her step was confident.  
  
It was no  _wonder_  they were confused.  
  
Lisa entered the room, drawn by the commotion. She looked at Taylor and her face lit up with happiness. “Oh, Taylor!” she said. “That’s wonderful!”  
  
Brian and Alec stared at her. “Fill us in, please?” said Brian.  
  
Lisa smiled. “Taylor’s back,” she said. “I don’t think she wants you to know all the details,” she said, glancing at Taylor.  
  
Taylor coloured slightly. Even that was something entirely new to them. “Uh, no,” she confessed. “If you could leave that bit out, I’d appreciate it.”  
  
Lisa nodded. “I understand. I don’t entirely approve, but I understand.” She turned to the others. “Taylor has managed to work through her problems. Mostly. This is what she was like before this all happened to her.”  
  
Alec was staring at her. “I think I like her,” he said. “Better than the silent ghost we had before.”  
  
Lisa gave him a shove. “Be nice,” she said.  
  
Taylor grinned. “It’s fine, Lisa.” A wasp landed on Alec’s nose, and he crossed his eyes to watch it. “I can take care of myself.” She hugged Lisa, squeezing her hard. “Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for not letting me kill myself.”  
  
That had been a bad week. Taylor had been even more depressed than normal, and had seriously discussed the various options of how to kill herself with Lisa. She had even asked Lisa to assist her in the matter; it had only been after three long nights of talking and attempting to comfort her that Taylor had reluctantly shelved the idea.  
  
Lisa hugged her back. “You’re welcome. Seeing you like this ... it’s worth it.”  
  
Alec spoke up. “Uhh, Taylor? The wasp?”  
  
Taylor giggled. “It’s fine, silly. He won’t sting.” The wasp took off, circled Alec’s head once, then headed into the middle distance. She looked at the group. “Thank you, all of you. You were there when I needed you, desperately.” She turned back to Lisa. “You offered to take me shopping. I turned you down. Let’s go shopping. This is the only bright clothing I own. I want more.”  
  
Lisa grinned. “Challenge accepted.” She turned to the boys. “Put on your walking shoes, boys. We’re going  _shopping.”_  
  
Alec rolled his eyes. Brian raised an eyebrow. “Taylor, actually interacting with people? This, I have to see.”  
  
Taylor stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
His jaw dropped open again.  
  
***  
  
Madison sat in her cell, hugging herself. “I didn’t know it was going to happen,” she said out loud, although no-one was listening. “I didn’t know she was going to do that. She did it to Taylor, poor Taylor. I watched her because I was scared she would do it to me next if I was weak. I didn’t want her to rape me. I didn’t want Emma to rape me. I didn’t mean to kill Emma. I didn’t know it was going to happen ...”  
  
On and on she went.  
  
She would never attend court, but she would go to an institution.  
  
Six months in, she would quietly commit suicide. The single note found at her side, next to the empty pill bottle, would read, “I’m sorry Taylor.”  
  
***  
  
Director Piggot stared at the image on her screen. “So there’s  _no_  trace of her in Boston? No-one’s seen her? No criminals maimed or killed? No cloaked figures seen on the rooftops?”  
  
The local PRT operative shook his head _. “No, ma’am. Nothing. She’s covered her tracks too damn well. It’s like she was never here.”_  
  
She frowned. “Well, keep looking. She’s got to be  _somewhere.”_  
  
After she clicked off the screen, she sat thinking.  _Like she was never here._  
  
Picking up her phone, she dialled.  
  
 _“Miss Militia here.”_  
  
“Piggot. Have your people start sweeps of Brockton Bay. Shadow Stalker may never have left town.”  
  
 _“Are you sure, Director?”_  
  
“Humour me on this one. It’s just a hunch, but it’s a strong one.”  
  
 _“Yes, Director. I’ll give the orders immediately.”_  
  
“And remember. The kill order is a go.”  
  
 _“Understood, Director.”_  
  
***  
  
Taylor sat back as she waited for Lisa to come back with her latest selections. She closed her eyes, letting herself seep into the massmind of bugs all around her.  
  
She spread it out ... feeling ... looking ... searching.  
  
***  
  
In a certain warehouse, bugs struck a cage made of electrical energy and died.  
  
***  
  
 _Nothing. Yet. But I know she’s here, somewhere._  
  
Her mind came back to her body; Lisa was shaking her. “Taylor, you spaced out for a minute there. What’s up?”  
  
Taylor smiled. “Nothing. Just resting.” She got up. “Okay, now where can we find some sexy underwear? I’m all out.”  
  
Lisa gave her a startled look. “Taylor!”  
  
Taylor grinned at her. “What?”  
  
Lisa stared at her.  _“You_  know. I know who you’re getting it for.”  
  
Taylor nodded. “Yes. I’m getting it for  _me.”_  
  
Lisa tried again. “But I know who you’ll be taking it  _off_  for.”  
  
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “And is that any business of yours? If both of us are consenting adults?”  
  
Lisa sighed. “No, I suppose not.” She leaned in to Taylor, put an arm around her waist. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”  
  
Taylor nodded. “Oh, yes. Someday I might see other people ... but for now, I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”  
  
“So you’re going to keep ...”  
  
Taylor nodded firmly. “Yes, Lisa, I am.”  
  
Lisa frowned, but nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’m not going to argue any more.” She kissed Taylor on the cheek, then linked arms with her. “Let’s go look at that sexy underwear.”


	8. The Death of Shadow Stalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go very badly wrong for Shadow Stalker.

Sophia lay back on the mattress, naked, languidly watching Electromaster – Greg – at the computer. He seemed to be taking an awful long time to get the camera sorted out.  
  
 _I hope it doesn’t hurt too much,_  she thought.  _I’m fairly certain I don’t have my hymen anymore, but if he’s not careful ..._  
  
 _Fuck it. He puts it in me, comes, he’s done. He’ll be so damn grateful for letting him do it to me._  
  
 _It’s the price I have to pay._ She could vividly recall the aching hours, wanting the water, just out of reach.  
  
 _Never fucking again._  
  
 _I do what I have to, to survive._  
  
The thought was fraught with pride. She didn’t even consider that in reality, he had left her without water for one day, and she had folded. She didn’t let herself consider that she was lounging on a mattress, inviting sex with the man – boy – who had tricked her into a blowjob, the previous day.  
  
 _I’m a survivor._  
  
***  
  
Greg stabbed at the keys of the computer. He had the camera pointing at Sophia, casually displaying herself for him, and the picture was up in the corner of his monitor. But he wasn’t staring at her with lust. Not any more. Not since he’d found out about what she’d done.  
  
 _Okay, guys and girls,_  he typed.  _Turns out my pet cape is damaged goods. I’m gonna have to put her down. Suggestions on best way to do this?_  
  
The responses came in thick and fast.  
  
-Seriously? You’re gonna snuff her?  
-Fuck. That takes balls.  
-Gonna ‘cast it?  
-I still think you should cut off her nipples.  
  
He growled at that last response.  _Dude,_  he typed.  _Enough with the fucking nipples. I do need to make her dead. I want to know, what would you like to see me do to her? How you want it done?_  
  
The ratings from this, for offing a known cape, and a good-looking one at that, would be fucking  _monumental._  
  
-shoot her in the fucking head  
-electro zap her with your electro zap gun  
-drown her  
-strangle her  
-choke her to death on your cock  
-cut her throat  
  
 _Okay, what sort of ratings would I get,_  he typed,  _if she’s in full costume, with cutouts for tits and ass, and I strangle her while I’m fucking her up the ass?_  
  
-a thousand a pop easy  
-two thousand  
-fuck, I would pay ten grand for that, with a close up of her eyes popping out  
-ten grand sounds good to me  
-How you gonna strangle her and fuck her at the same time?  
  
 _Hey,_  he typed.  _Leave that to me. Ten thousand a pop, and she gets strangled on live broadcast while I rape her asshole. Because she sure as hell isn’t going to be enjoying it. Sound good?_  
  
The consensus was that it sounded good.  
  
 _Get back to me in six hours. I’ll have it ready to run._  
  
***  
  
Sophia was pleasantly surprised when he hit the remote and the other three cage walls vanished, as did the ‘roof’.  
  
“Hey, wow,” she called out. “This is awesome. I feel like I can just stretch my arms out ...” She did so, thrusting her breasts in the air. And then both her arm restraints started buzzing.  
  
“Hey!” she said. “Not funny! This isn’t comfortable!”  
  
Her ankle restraints also started buzzing.  
  
“Hey!” she said. “Hey! I’ll let you have sex with me! I was going to do it anyway!”  
  
Fear chased through her.  _What’s wrong? What did I do?_  
  
He was stalking over to her.  
  
“I thought you were  _nice_ ,” he snarled. “I thought you might be nice to keep around. Someone who might even fall for me, you know, eventually.”  
  
She looked up at him, fear shading to terror roiling in her guts. “Tell me what I  _did,”_  she pleaded.  
  
“Remember Taylor Hebert?” he snarled.  
  
 _Taylor. **Fuck.**_  
  
She didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare give him a clue if that was not what he was referring to.  
  
“I liked her,” he said. “She was ... nice. She talked to me more than anyone else.” He paused. “More than  _you_  ever did.”  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
“And then, after Christmas break, she got dragged into a room and  _raped_.” His voice actually broke, here. “They never found out who did it. She was never the same. She’s ... dead, now. Walking, but dead. No life to her.” He pointed his finger, accusatory.  _“You_  killed her!  _You_  took that away from her!”  
  
If the situation had not been so dire, she would have giggled at the melodrama. She did not giggle.  
  
Abruptly, he kicked her in the side. She jolted; one of her restraints sent a searing pulse of electricity through her. She screamed.  
  
“They found out who did it – now. Madison Clements got into a fight with Emma Barnes, killed her. Stabbed her with a woodworking chisel, if you can believe that. Claimed Emma was going to rape her. Told a story about how Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes raped Taylor Hebert in a dark room in early January.”  
  
He kicked her again. The restraint shocked her again. She wanted to curl up with the pain of her bruised ribs, could not.  
  
He undid his belt, stepped out of his trousers. Took off his jacket, with all the Tinker gadgets. Stood before her, naked, his erection rigid before him. He dropped to his knees between her legs.  
  
“You like rape so much ...  _you_  try it.”  
  
***  
  
Sophia Hess screamed. She wanted to struggle, but knew that any movement would send a shock through her. He was on top of her, ramming his cock into her, bruising her flesh, punishing her. He grabbed both of her breasts, twisted and squeezed them mercilessly. And all the time, he stabbed his thick cock into her abused vagina.  
  
There was no gentleness, no foreplay, no attempt at being nice.  
  
There was just hate, and anger, and brute rage.  
  
And rape.  
  
***  
  
She lay on the bare concrete floor, and sobbed gently to herself.  
  
The mattress was gone. Her clothes were gone. She had blood on her thighs from the brutality of his assault. Her side ached from where he had kicked her. Her breasts ached from where he had mauled them. Her vagina was bruised and sore.  
  
On all sides, the cage enclosed her. The restraints were set on slow movement. Once in a while, he would randomly put one on Stop, and she would have to be certain not to be moving that one at the time.  
  
So it was easier to curl up in a ball, naked, on the cold bare concrete floor, and cry.  
  
 _I nearly had him. I nearly had him where I wanted him._  
  
 _I was **so close.**_  
  
“Hey!” he called out.  
  
She looked up.  
  
“Spread ‘em!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Spread ‘em. Now!”  
  
With trepidation, she spread her arms and legs. There was the buzz of all four going to Stop.  
  
The cage vanished.  
  
He entered the enclosure, pulled down his pants, got on top of her and raped her again.  
  
She could barely even scream any more.  
  
Afterward, she lay where he left her, and cried.  
  
The cage walls crackled.  
  
***  
  
He worked on the new device for almost six hours. Each forty minutes or so, he would take a break. He would go and have a bite to eat, something to drink, a walk to stretch his legs and clear his head. And then he would go and rape Sophia Hess.  
  
***  
  
He found that he hated her now, for more than just what she had done to Taylor Hebert.  
  
 _My first time with a woman was supposed to be **good**. It was supposed to be  **fun**. I was supposed to  **enjoy**  it. Not spend all my time making sure I hurt her as much as possible._  
  
 _Fuck, I wonder if I’ll ever learn to enjoy sex?_  
  
 _If I ever meet a woman who wants to, with me?_  
  
 _Or has she fucked that for me, too?_  
  
***  
  
On the fourth time, when he called out, she simply spread her arms and legs _. He comes in here, he rapes me, he goes away,_ she thought dully _. It hurts for a while. It passes._  
  
“No, you stupid fucking moron!” he screamed, and all four restraints blasted her with waves of pain.  
  
When her mind cleared, she realised that she’d thrown up on herself.  
  
“Please,” she whimpered. “Please. Tell me what you want. I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”  
  
He went away. She closed her eyes.  
  
***  
  
A freezing drench of water. He’d thrown a bucket of freezing cold water over her. The water pooled, washing off the vomit. She huddled, shivering.  
  
“Hands and knees,” he ordered.  
  
She stared at him, uncomprehending.  
  
“Hands and fucking knees, bitch!” he yelled. All he had to do was show her the remote. Frantically, she scrambled to all fours.  
  
“Good,” he said. The four restraints began to buzz. She heard him get down behind her. The familiar noise of him undoing his pants.  _So he wants to rape me from behind this time?_  
  
A moment later, she discovered her error.  
  
It wasn’t her  _pussy_  he was after.  
  
***  
  
She screamed, throat raw, still screaming. Tried to rock forward, get away from the thrusting weapon, the penis that she had regarded with such amused tolerance. He weilded it like a knife, like a sword, like a spear. It pierced to the heart of her being, tore her open.  
  
He thrust into her, came. Pulled out, zipped up.  
  
Kicked her in the stomach, so that she doubled over, retching.  
  
Turned and left.  
  
The cage walls crackled.  
  
She did not even have the energy to cry.  
  
***  
  
“I’m sorry!” she screamed across the warehouse to where he was working. “I’m sorry! Please believe me! I’m sorry! I was wrong! I’ll do anything to make it right! Please!”  
  
And she meant every single word.  
  
***  
  
As the last echo of her voice trailed away, he walked up to the cage. One side opened for him. He stepped inside. She cowered. He reached down, pulled her to a kneeling position. She stayed; he did not need to use the remote. She dared not move. He unzipped, pulled her mouth on to his erection.  
  
She sucked eagerly, gratefully.  _Is he forgiving me?_  She gave him the very best blowjob she could. She was learning fast.  
  
When he came, she was wiping cum from her chin, gazing up at him adoringly, he backhanded her across the mouth. The tech-gadgets on the glove cut her lips, bruised her face. She fell sideways, speechless in shock.  
  
“Don’t. Speak. To. Me,” he snarled. He kicked her in the stomach.  
  
 _Then_  he raped her.  
  
***  
  
The device was ready. He carried it out to where she slumped in the cage. He keyed off one wall, walked in. She gazed at him dully, terrified. Not daring to move. He didn’t even need to show her the remote.  
  
“Stand,” he said. She scrambled to her feet, stood shaking. Not daring to move, to speak.  
  
He handed her the device. “Put it around your neck.”  
  
She complied immediately. It clicked into place, did a self-check, reported all well.  
  
He pressed the button on the remote; the other restraint fell off her neck. She looked down at it in dull curiosity.  
  
“Pick it up,” he said. She did. He took it from her, and walked out of the cage. Not even bothering to watch her, in case she did anything.  
  
She was too terrified even to consider it.  
  
The cage wall closed.  
  
 _He didn’t rape me. He didn’t hit me._  
  
Profound gratitude filled her heart.  
  
She never even wondered what he had put on her neck.  
  
***  
  
At the six-hour mark, he came to the cage, carrying a bundle. Her clothes. Everything except her gloves and boots, and underwear.  
  
Clothes.  
  
She put them all on. Slowly, tenderly, sensuously. He stood there, watching. She didn’t care.  
  
First, the pants. They felt strange without the thong, but they covered her.  
  
Or so she thought.  
  
When she went to move, there was a draft. A slit, cut right down underneath, through her butt-crack.  
  
 _So he can rape me._  
  
The thought did not surprise her.  
  
The top also had a surprise. There was a slit cut right across her breasts. They poked through, showing clearly.  
  
The cloak had no damage. The mask had no damage.   
  
She felt almost complete for the first time since her capture. She looked at him in near-adoration. She was covered once more. Not just a naked thing on the floor. A person in a costume.  _Someone._  
  
“This way,” he said, and walked toward the camera.  
  
She followed, obediently. Not even considering the concept of disobedience.  
  
When she reached the camera, he gave her a sheet of paper. “Face the camera and read this. Do not deviate.” He did not need to tell her the penalty for deviation.  
  
She stepped in front of the camera, and immediately began reading the paper out loud.  
  
“My name is Shadow Stalker. My real name is Sophia Hess.”  
  
The next line was in all capitals, in square brackets.  
  
 **[TAKE YOUR MASK OFF NOW]**  
  
He held up his remote; she didn’t need the reminder. She took the mask off, dropped it.  
  
Kept reading the paper.  
  
“I was a vigilante and I killed people. I was a Ward and I carried illegal lethal ammunition, against regulations. I tried to kill people.”  
  
She took a deep breath, and went to the next line.  
  
“In my civilian identity, along with Emma Barnes and Madison Clements, I tormented Taylor Hebert for two years at Winslow High. I was given no provocation nor reason to do so. I just did it because I am a coward and a bully.”  
  
Her voice did not skip or waver at this line. If he wanted her to read it, she would read it.  
  
“After Christmas Break this year, Emma and Madison and I ambushed Taylor and dragged her into a janitorial closet. We had a strap-on sex toy. I used it to rape Taylor repeatedly. Emma used it also. Emma is now dead. I am the only living culprit. I am guilty of this crime.”  
  
She looked at the next line, nearly dropped the paper, nearly fainted. He raised the remote. She steadied her voice, read on.  
  
“I have been sentenced to death for this. It will be an ugly and gruesome death, because I committed an ugly and gruesome crime. If any of you watching are considering such a crime, consider me an example. Don’t do it.”  
  
She dropped the paper, looked straight at the camera.  
  
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do it.”  
  
***  
  
He was pointing at a spot on the floor; there was a large red X marked on it.  
  
“Hands and knees, facing the camera,” he said.  
  
She assumed the position.  
  
Then he leaned in close to her. “Any last words?” he asked. His voice was almost gentle.  
  
She lowered her head. “Please god forgive me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tears ran from her eyes, down her face, dripped on to the floor.  
  
“He might,” said Greg. “I won’t.”  
  
He got down behind her, and she felt the cut cloth part. In the next instant, there was the agonising pain, the first thrust, as he rammed his cock into her torn and abused asshole. She arched her back and screamed.  
  
As he thrust into her, she felt her screams lessen. Not because she was losing her voice, but because her throat was tightening. The pain from her ass was horrific, but she suddenly realised how he was going to execute her.  
  
 _That new neck restraint. It has a garrotte built in._  
  
Greg continued to rape her, even as she choked and coughed. She knew her face would be turning dark, her eyes beginning to bulge, her tongue protruding from her mouth. Darkness edged her vision. And yet she had to scream, even if it was in a whisper.  
  
Her throat closed off altogether. There was only the pain of his repeated thrusts.  
  
She collapsed. Dimly, she felt him cum inside her, strangely drawn-out. As if he were finally releasing something long-held.  
  
Everything went dark.


	9. Interlude 4: Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisha and Lisa intervene in Sophia's murder ...

Piggot glared at the PRT officer. “Please tell me you’ve found her.”  
  
“Not ... as such, ma’am,” he said, then hurried on. “But we’ve got  _something_. I just don’t know if it’s relevant or not.”  
  
The Director glared at him ominously. “Go on.”  
  
“One of our tech guys was doing a search for any mention of her, and he was bored, so he attached the name Shadow Stalker to a custom search engine and let it have its head. And just this morning, he got a ping.”  
  
She shook her head. “Her name’s  _been_  in the news.”  
  
“No, ma’am,” he said carefully. “This wasn’t in the news. He blocked out all the sources we know of. The ping came from this underground network, a sort of cape-hate site. They share pics and anecdotes of supposed cape torture, humiliation and so on. Most of it’s bullshit.” He took a deep breath. “We got a line on a video, raw feed, of someone who looks very much like Sophia Hess, uhhhh....”  
  
She made a ‘go on’ gesture. “What?”  
  
“She was performing oral sex on someone. A cape we don’t know. The tagline is Electromaster.”  
  
She leaned back in her chair. “Christ. Any way to verify, get a line on the location, anything?”  
  
He shook his head. “The IP is pretty well shredded. This guy knows his beans.” He took a breath. “We matched it up with something we hadn’t actually considered before, because it looked like an amateur fan video. In it, Shadow Stalker removes her clothing and mask before going to do the deed. It watches like a porn video – which, basically, it is.”  
  
She frowned. “So she’s holed up doing  _porn videos?_  And posting them online?”  
  
He shook his head. “From the looks of it, we’re thinking non-consensual.”  
  
She sat up straight. “Fuck. He’s  _raping_  her?”  
  
“There’s been no sex on camera yet,” he said carefully, “but that means nothing.”  
  
“Wait,” she said. “Her powers. How is be bypassing her powers?”  
  
“That’s a good question,” he said. “Close examination of the video has her wearing ornaments that are not part of her original costume. Wrists, neck and so on. They have the appearance of electronics.”  
  
“Which means electricity.” She nodded. “Understood.”  
  
“We’re looking out for more posts by this Electromaster. Dragon’s keeping an eye out too.”  
  
She shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” She nodded. “Good work. Keep me posted.”  
  
He saluted and walked out. She leaned back in her chair.  _So we might be saving her from a rapist, just so we can kill her._  
  
 _Strange, strange world._  
  
***  
  
“Afternoon, Dad.”  
  
“Did you have a good day, Taylor?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” she smiled. “I went and spent time with my friends.”  
  
He grinned. “Were they surprised?”  
  
She hugged him. “Oh hell yes.” A kiss that landed more on his lips than his cheek. “We went shopping.”  
  
“Oh?” he asked, falling into the trap. “What did you get?”  
  
“Oh, this and that,” she said. “Some underwear. But I’m having trouble with it.”  
  
“What ...  _sort_  of trouble?” he asked warily.  
  
She undid her skirt and dropped it to the floor. Under it, she wore the tightest, sheerest, most provocative pair of panties he had ever seen.  
  
She ran her hands over them, rubbing between her thighs. “I’m having trouble taking them off,” she breathed. “Could you possibly help me?”  
  
“Taylor,” he sighed, “you are a bad, bad, bad girl.” He scooped her up in his arms. “And bad girls get punished.”  
  
“Oooh,” she said. “That sounds like fun,”  
  
And it was.  
  
***  
  
“Yo, Tatts,” said Imp. “A word?”  
  
“Sure, Aisha,” said Tattletale. “What’s up?”  
  
Imp led her out of earshot of the others, then turned to her. “There’s some freakishly weird shit going on, and I need your advice and maybe your help.”  
  
Tattletale looked at her curiously. “Sorry, but ‘freakishly weird shit’ doesn’t give me enough clues. We live in  _Brockton Bay.”_  
  
Imp inclined her head. “Fair point, fair point. Well, guess who I found.”  
  
Tattletale nodded. “Shadow Stalker.” She paused. “But there’s more.”  
  
Imp grinned. “She’s someone’s prisoner. And he’s making her show him her tits for water and food and shit.”  
  
Tattletale raised an eyebrow. “Well, good for him. Couldn’t happen to a nicer person.”  
  
“Ah, but this is the best part,” said Imp. “He’s a cape. A Tinker.” She looked at Tattletale steadily. “You’re always saying that we need a Tinker.”  
  
“Ooh,” said Tattletale. “I like where this is heading.” She glanced around, to where Taylor was chatting animatedly with Brian and Alec. Even Bitch was paying attention, as much as she ever did. “Let’s not tell the others about this. Don’t want to get their hopes up.”  
  
***  
  
They sneaked into the warehouse; Electromaster had not done as nearly a good job at securing it as he had thought. Imp found a vantage point, and they watched with sick fascination as Electromaster forced Shadow Stalker, naked on the concrete floor, to suck his cock, before he beat and raped her.  
  
 _“Fuck ...”_  breathed Imp. “This is worse than what he was doing before.”  
  
Tattletale nodded, her mouth a grim line. “He found out about her connection to Taylor. He must know Taylor in his civilian identity; more than that, he must consider her a friend. He’s punishing Sophia for what she did.”  
  
“The fuck are we going to do?” asked Imp. “I mean, she’s a fucking horrible person, but ...  
  
  
Tattletale shook her head. “He’s broken her. Look at her. There’s nothing left. None of that pride or arrogance. Nothing.” She paused. “He’s going to kill her on camera.”  
  
“Fuck that,” said Imp. “We’ve got to do  _something.”_  
  
“We will,” said Tattletale. “Just wait.”  
  
They waited.  
  
They watched the tableau play out; he gave her the clothes, she dressed in them, walked to the camera. She read out her own death warrant. He pointed at where she was supposed to be.  
  
Tattletale averted her eyes as the rape proceeded, as Sophia coughed and choked, as she slumped to the ground.  
  
“Now,” she said.  
  
Imp jumped to her feet and strode out into the warehouse.  
  
“Hey!” she yelled. “Electrolux!”


	10. Saving Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A last-minute save for Shadow Stalker, changing her whole life.

Greg finished cumming inside Sophia’s ravaged, bleeding ass. Her muscles were slack; she was slumped on the ground. He couldn’t hear even the rasp of her breathing.  
  
He pulled out of her, wiped himself off, tucked himself away, and zipped up. Then he moved forward, leaned down, and checked for a pulse.  
  
To his surprise, she still had one. Very faint, but detectable.  
  
 _Oh well, she’ll be dead in a minute or two. Time to be dramatic._  
  
He looked up at the camera, and shook his head slowly.  
  
“Shadow Stalker is dead,” he said, just loudly enough to be audible on the microphone. “I won’t be back. This is Electromaster, signing off for good.”  
  
He hit the remote, and the camera light blinked off.  
  
He looked down at the limp body. He couldn’t even hate her anymore. What he’d done to her ...  
  
 _What about what she did to **Taylor**?_  his inner voice raged.  
  
 _She only raped Taylor once,_  he tried to point out.  
  
 _And she had to live with that every day after,_  his rage replied.  
  
He sighed.  _I’m arguing with myself. Never a good sign._  
  
“Fuck,” he said.  
  
The voice, when it came, was a complete surprise to him.  
  
“Hey, Electrolux!”  
  
His head whipped around. A slim girl in a skintight costume that made her look like a sexy little devil was stomping toward him.  
  
“What the fuck?” he said, and reached for his taser.  
  
He was holding his taser in his hand, but wasn’t sure why. He started to put it away.  
  
 _Hey, where’d my taser go?_  
  
“Looking for this?”  
  
He whipped around, staring at a slim girl wearing a skintight sexy demon outfit. The lenses over her eyes were black from side to side. She was pointing his own taser at him.  
  
“Fuc –“ he managed, before the prongs contacted him in the chest.  
  
As he blacked out, he knew that this was possibly the most embarrassing defeat ever.  
  
***  
  
Lisa came running over to where Electromaster had slumped to the ground. She grabbed a remote from his belt and pressed a button. Something clicked under Shadow Stalker’s cloak.  
  
“Fuck!” she said. “She’s not breathing!”  
  
Imp ripped the cloak from her, found a flexible metal band lying on the ground under her. A deep groove around her throat showed where the band had been strangling her.  
  
“Help me roll her over,” she said. Lisa gave her a hand; Shadow Stalker flopped on to her back. Her breasts, visible through the wide slit in her top, pointed at the ceiling.  
  
Imp took hold of Shadow Stalker’s nose, holding the nostrils closed. She placed her mouth over the other girl’s, blew air into it. And again. And again.  
  
Abruptly, Shadow Stalker’s back heaved, and she drew in a deep breath. She coughed and choked, and wheezed. Her eyes flew open.  
  
“Please,” she rasped. “Please. I’ll do anything. Please.”  
  
On impulse, Imp reached up and pulled her mask off. “It’s okay,” she said, in a far softer tone than Tattletale had ever heard her use before. “You’re safe. You’re with me. He won’t hurt you anymore.”  
  
Sophia clung to her and wept. Imp patted her hair and comforted her.  
  
When Sophia finally got her head around the idea that she was alive, she was pathetically grateful. “I’ll do anything you want,” she said, as Imp cradled her in her arms. “ _Anything_. I’ll lick your pussy, suck your tits, tongue your ass, let you have sex with me. Just please don’t let him kill me.” She closed her eyes and clung tighter. “Just please don’t  _hurt_  me anymore.”  
  
Aisha raised her eyebrows at Tattletale, who was keeping back out of Shadow Stalker’s view. Tattletale read the message perfectly;  _Can I keep her?_  
  
Tattletale nodded; she was having a hard time keeping a straight face.  _Brian is going to have a conniption._  Her grin was very vulpine.  _This is gonna be **so**  worth it._  
  
At Tattletale’s nod, Imp smiled widely. “It’s okay, Sophia,” she said gently, caressing the older girl’s face. “My name’s Aisha, and you’re mine now. And I won’t let anyone hurt you  _ever_  again.”  
  
Sophia opened her eyes and looked up at Aisha with adoration. Aisha lowered her face to Sophia’s and kissed her. Sophia wrapped her arms around Aisha’s neck and returned the kiss with surprising fervor.  
  
“Oh, my,” murmured Tattletale, as the two girls continued to kiss, their caresses and moans becoming more and more blatant and desperate. Bits of costume started coming off, and things began going from R-rated to X-rated. “Oh  _my.”_  
  
Blushing just a little, Tattletale left them to it, and went to Electromaster. The Tinker was groaning his way back to consciousness, so Tattletale helped him up, still groggy, and moved him out of sight of the couple on the floor.  
  
“Okay, bucko,” she said in a low tone. “I know what you did, and I know why you did it. What you’ve got to realise is that you don’t do that shit,  _ever_. That’s a line that you do not cross. Got me?”  
  
Her bottle-green eyes searched his. He blinked.  
  
“Y-yeah,” he mumbled. He slumped down on the floor. “I’m a dick.” He was talking to the floor more than her. “I wanted to be a hero, but I wanted more to meet girls. And then I thought I caught a villain, but it was Shadow Stalker, and she’s so damn  _hot_  ...”  
  
Without even seeming to think about it, he pulled his helmet off and wrapped his hands over his head. “I wanted her  _so badly_. Just a kiss would have done it. A hug. Some willing body contact. Just so long as she was  _nice_  about it. I would have let her go. But she had to be ... well, I did capture her, but she wouldn’t meet me halfway. And she  _threatened_  me.”  
  
He looked up at her. “And then I got caught up in the power trip. She was there, and she did the striptease, and I saw more and more of her, and oh god, I just wanted to be  _with_  her. I had fantasies about her being my girlfriend. I would have treated her so  _nice_  ...”  
  
“And then you found out what she did to Taylor,” she said, her voice sympathetic. “And it all went wrong.”  
  
He nodded miserably. “I like Taylor a lot,” he said. “But she’s changed. She’s been taken away from me. She’s ... dead. Walking, breathing, but dead. And Sophia did that. I wanted her to pay. The viewers were willing to pay for it. I just ... let it get out of control.”  
  
He wrapped his arms around himself. “I hadn’t even  _had_  sex before now,” he said dully. “And now I don’t think I ever will. What I did to her ... wasn’t sex. It was violence. I was aroused by her before. Now ... I just hate her. I just wanted to ... hurt her. The way she hurt Taylor. Make her pay. Make her realise just what she’s done.”  
  
Lisa put a hand on his shoulder. “I think she realises. I really do.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said miserably, “but what about  _me?_  What about what I’ve done to myself?”  
  
She looked at him sympathetically. “You did that to yourself, you’ll have to fix that yourself. You made yourself into a rapist. I can’t help you there.”  
  
“I’ll castrate myself before I ever hurt another girl again,” he said moodily.  
  
“Let’s not be  _that_  drastic,” Tattletale said with a grin. She nodded to him. “Let’s go edit your last post, put it out where the PRT will find it.”  
  
“What?” he asked. “Why?”  
  
“Because Imp wants to keep her, and we want people to think she’s safely dead. There  _is_  a kill order on her head,” explained Tattletale. She grinned at him again. “Thanks mainly to you, you realise.”  
  
***  
  
By the time they had finished doing that, Imp and Shadow Stalker had finished and were getting dressed. Shadow Stalker clung close to Imp’s side, and showed no shame when Imp helped her find her underwear and put them on her.  
  
Sophia’s head was spinning. Aisha was so  _nice_  to her, and she had saved her life, and been so sweet and gentle, and when she made her come, it was so beautiful, and she wanted to keep her. And she was protecting her from everyone else.  
  
She decided that she loved Aisha very much. She would do anything Aisha wanted. She wanted to make Aisha happy with her.  
  
“Well, we’re ready to go,” said Imp, holding Sophia’s hand possessively. Sophia stayed close by her side, cowering a little from Greg’s presence.  
  
“So are we,” said Tattletale. “Greg, you got all the stuff you need?”  
  
Greg nodded. “All my plans, most of my prototypes. I’ll set this stuff to wipe itself and then deconstruct once we’re gone.” He looked at Sophia. “We’re taking her with us?”  
  
“Yes, we are,” declared Imp. “She’s mine, and I’m keeping her.” She reached up and caressed Sophia’s unmasked cheek; Sophia smiled and placed her hand over Imp’s.  
  
“I want to be with Aisha,” she said softly, hesitantly. Her voice was quieter now, a little huskier, since the near-death experience.  
  
“Well,” said Tattletale, “that settles it.” She smiled at Sophia. “You be a good girl now.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” whispered Sophia. “I’ll be as good as you want me to be.”  
  
“Or as bad,” giggled Aisha, sliding her arm around Sophia’s back and under her cloak. What she did there was not visible, but it made Sophia jump and giggle.  
  
Tattletale rolled her eyes. “Seriously, you two, get a room.” She paused. “How are you going to explain this to Alec?”  
  
Imp turned to Sophia. “I have a boyfriend,” she said. “Is this going to be a problem?”  
  
Sophia lowered her head. “If you want me to have sex with him too, then I will, “ she said submissively.  
  
“Ooh,” said Imp. “I’ve never had a three-way before.”  
  
Tattletale caught Greg’s eye, and shook her head, grinning. Greg just looked mildly stunned.  
  
“Whatever you want me to do, I will do,” said Sophia. “Just please, don’t hurt me.”  
  
“You’re  _mine,_ ” said Imp possessively, grabbing her arm. “I won’t let  _anyone_  hurt you.”  
  
“Thank you,” whispered Sophia. “Thank you.”


	11. Interlude Five: Hook, Line and Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Director Piggot gets word of Shadow Stalker's death.

Director Piggot’s phone rang; she picked it up while still typing at her computer.  
  
“Piggot.”  
  
_“Director,”_  said Miss Militia,  _“There’s something you should see. It’s about Shadow Stalker.”_  
  
“Well, send it over,” said Piggot.  
  
_“Very well,”_  said Miss Militia.  _“But I must warn you, it’s very graphic and very disturbing.”_  
  
“I was in Ellisburg,” snapped Director Piggot. “Don’t talk to  _me_  about graphic and disturbing.”  
  
_“Understood, Director,”_  said Miss Militia.  _“The file is on its way.”_  
  
Moments later, her email inbox pinged.  
  
She opened the email, to find a large video file and a short note.  
  
The note read,  _“This has been disseminating across the net over the last six hours. The best analysis of our technical department cannot find any fakery. This is, to the best of our knowledge, a genuine file._  
  
_Hannah”_  
  
She clicked open the video file and played it.  
  
It played all the way through, and she sat like a statue the whole time.  
  
Then she played it through a second time, pausing at odd intervals.  
  
She called up the file on Sophia Hess, and compared facial details. They all matched.  
  
_The tech department would have done all this. But I have to check._  
  
On the video, Shadow Stalker choked to death. The symptoms were impossible to fake. The unknown cape – Electromaster? – checked her pulse, confirmed her death.  
  
Had she been on scene, Piggot would have put one in her head, just to be sure.  _But that’s just me._  
  
***  
  
She called Miss Militia back. “How sure are the techs?”  
  
_“Ninety to ninety-five percent sure that she’s really dead.”_  
  
“Not better than that? I’ve seen people strangled. That’s how they look.”  
  
_“The only way we’re going to reach that last five or ten percent is actually have a body on site.”_  
  
“No luck finding the location?”  
  
_“None yet.”_  
  
“Well, scale back the searches. Keep a watch on anything like her previous MO. Use of crossbows, things like that. But it looks to me like she’s dead.”  
  
_“I concur, Director. I’ll have the orders cut at once.”_  
  
“Thank you. And good work.”  
  
_“Thank **you** , Director.”_


	12. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg Veder and Sophia Hess are inducted into the Undersiders. A new era begins.

Tattletale required that both Greg and Sophia be blindfolded for the final approaches to the Undersiders base. Greg didn’t like it, but submitted with bad grace. Sophia, strangely enough, was fine with it so long as Imp held her hand.  
  
As they entered the base proper, Tattletale raised her voice. “Guys, masks on. Visitors present.”  
  
Brian was the first one out of his room, fitting his helmet over his head. Other than that, he wore a t-shirt and jeans.  
  
“Fuck!” he yelled as he saw the ‘visitors’. “Shadow Stalker!” Darkness billowed out from him as he struck a defensive pose. Sophia wailed in fright, and hid behind Imp.  
  
“No!” shouted Imp. “No! She’s mine! I found her and I’m keeping her!”  
  
Brian paused. The darkness attenuated slightly, then faded away.  
  
“Fucking  _what?”_  he asked.  
  
Imp put her arms firmly around Sophia, who was shaking. “She’s  _mine,”_  she repeated. “If I let her go, they’ll kill her. So I brought her home. And I’m keeping her, so there.”  
  
Brian looked at Tattletale, his very posture indicating  _Are you fucking kidding me?_  
  
Tattletale shrugged slightly, helplessly.  _It is what it is._  
  
“Okay,” growled Brian, “so who the fuck is  _this?”_  He looked at Electromaster, who was standing there, looking somewhat apprehensive. “Not someone else you decided to bring home like a lost puppy?”  
  
“No,” said Electromaster. “My name’s Electromaster –“   
  
“- which we  _are_  going to have to change,” said Tattletale smoothly, “and he’s also a Tinker. Quite a good one, if I’m any judge.”  
  
“Oh,” said Brian. “Right.”  
  
Regent entered then, drawn by the shouting. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Oh, hi, Imp – jesus fuck!”  
  
“Alec,” said Imp firmly. “I want you to meet Sophia. Sophia, meet Alec.”  
  
“The  _fuck?”_  asked Regent. “You just told her my fucking  _name!”_  
  
“Well, we  _are_  going to be sleeping together,” said Imp reasonably.  
  
Regent stared, as did Brian.  
  
“So when she says she’s yours –“ said Brian.  
  
“She means I belong to her, yes,” agreed Sophia unexpectedly. “I’m hers. She saved me.” She sank to her knees beside Imp, and looked up at Regent. “I will do anything with you that she wants me to,” she said softly.  
  
Regent blinked a few times.  
  
 _“Anything?”_  he asked, expression a little askance.  
  
Sophia nodded. “Just please ... don’t  _hurt_  me,” she said very quietly.  
  
Imp went to her knees beside Sophia and put her arms around her. “We won’t. I promise. I’m gonna take  _real_  good care of you.”  
  
Brian was shaking his head. “There is something deeply disturbing about all of this.” He looked down at Imp, almost literally cradling the older girl in her arms. “This is because I wouldn’t get you that puppy that time, isn’t it?”  
  
She stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
There was more commotion on the stairs, and Imp stood, pulling Sophia to her feet. “Here come the others now,” she said happily.  
  
The first one through the door was Skitter.  
  
When she saw Sophia, she did not even hesitate. No-one actually saw her start the movement, but the streak of light across the yard or two that separated them was probably the reflection off the blade in her hand.  
  
Sophia screamed in terror. Imp yelled, “NO!” Regent had his hand out. And Skitter was paused at full lunge, the knife that should have gone through Sophia’s throat right alongside her ear, Skitter’s hand resting on her shoulder.  
  
Imp shoved Skitter back roughly. “No!” she shouted again. “Everyone, stop trying to kill her! She’s  _mine!_  I found her, and I’m keeping her!”  
  
Sophia cowered; Imp stepped back and put her arms around her protectively. “I’m not going to let  _anyone_  hurt you, Sophia,” she said firmly. “Anyone at all.”  
  
Sophia huddled in her embrace. “Why does she want me dead?” she whimpered.  
  
Skitter stepped up in front of her. “You want to find out?” she asked, the buzzing of insects in the room accentuating her tone.  
  
“Please?” asked Sophia.  
  
In answer, Skitter reached down, grabbed the edge of her mask, and pulled it up and off her head.  
  
Sophia looked into the face of Taylor Hebert.  
  
“You tell me,” said Taylor.  
  
Sophia’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.  
  
***  
  
“That was  _mean,”_  said Imp severely. She held Sophia’s head in her lap, caressing her face, stroking her hair.  
  
“Wait, what?” said Electromaster. “Seriously? You’re  _Skitter?”_  
  
“Well, yeah,” said Taylor, looking at him. “And who the fuck are you?”  
  
Slowly, he took off his helmet.  
  
Taylor stared.  
  
“Well, fuck,” she said.  
  
***  
  
“Okay,” said Brian. “We were going to give Electromaster –“  
  
“You have  _got_  to give him a better name,” interjected Imp.  
  
“ – granted, he has to get a better name,” agreed Brian. “We were going to give him the shove, but Regent of all people stood up for him.”  
  
“Well, yeah,” said Regent. “What he did to Sophia? Pffft. I did that in one day to ten people. Twice. And he had a good reason, and now ...”  
  
He looked over to where Greg was in earnest conversation with Taylor.  
  
“I think the dork and the dork-boy actually have something in common,” he grinned. Imp gave him a shove.  
  
They sat around the table, except for Sophia who chose to kneel between Imp and Regent. They had had snacks, and Sophia had accepted food only from Imp’s hand.  
  
Brian, watching, had shaken his head and muttered something about ‘just too disturbing for words’.  
  
Taylor finished speaking to Greg and returned to the table. Seating herself, she looked across at Imp. “Aisha. Question.”  
  
“So long as it’s not ‘can I kill Sophia’, sure, I’ll answer it,” replied Aisha impudently.  
  
“No, I’m not going to kill her,” said Taylor. “But I do want to spend an hour or so alone with her in bed.”  
  
Everyone stared at her. Sophia whimpered and clutched at Aisha’s hand.  
  
“I didn’t know you ...” began Brian.  
  
“I’m not,” said Taylor. “I’m straight. But I’m also messed up in the head. So I need to give Sophia a good hard fucking if I’m going to get over what she did to me.”  
  
“You’re not allowed to hurt her!” declared Imp. “I promised her.”  
  
Taylor shook her head. “I’ll be careful. I’ll use something of an ordinary size. And I’ll make sure not to cause her pain.” She glared at Sophia. “But this is not going to be nice, and it’s not going to be romantic. And I  _am_  going to hold you down and fuck you until you can’t walk.”  
  
Sophia glanced up at Aisha. Aisha looked back at her, and gently kissed her on the lips. “Yes,” she said softly. “You’re going to have to do this, I’m afraid.”  
  
Sophia nodded. “I’ll do it,” she said quietly. She looked up at Taylor. “When do you want me?” she asked.  
  
Taylor considered. “You still have some injuries to get over. Say, two days time.”  
  
Sophia nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Brian raised his hand. “Hey, how about me? She put an arrow in me that one time.”  
  
Aisha looked at Sophia. “He has a point, you know.”  
  
Sophia looked at the floor. “I’ll have sex with him too, if you want me to.”  
  
Aisha nodded. “It might be best.” She glared around the table. “Anyone  _else_  want to have sex with Sophia? It seems to be a general thing around here.”  
  
Tattletale grinned and shook her head. Bitch glowered.  
  
***  
  
“Right,” said Brian. “So, we’re agreed. Sophia joins the Undersiders. But we change her cape name to Spectre.”  
  
Imp squealed and hugged Sophia. Sophia hugged her back.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered, tears leaking out of her eyes.  
  
Brian shook his head very slightly.  _What the fuck are we doing?_  
  
“Next order of business. Greg joins the Undersiders. But we change  _his_  cape name to Voltage.”  
  
Greg nodded. “I’m good with that.”  
  
Alec slapped him on the back. “Welcome aboard, Voltage.”  
  
“Good to be here.”  
  
“And, uh,” said Imp, “Spectre and Voltage never go out on the same mission alone together.”  
  
“Good idea,” said Greg.  
  
Sophia nodded.  
  
***  
  
As they strolled down the street, enjoying the cool night air, Brian grinned at Taylor. “You surprise me more every day.”  
  
“Oh?” asked Taylor. “Why?”  
  
“Being outgoing. Confident. Stronger than I’ve ever seen you before. And telling Sophia that you’re going to give her a good hard fucking.”  
  
She coloured slightly. “I didn’t mean to say that, but that’s what came out.”  
  
He grinned. “You know something ...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re going to be fucking her ...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“And I’m going to be fucking her ...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“So why don’t we make it a threesome?”  
  
She stared at him. “Really?”  
  
He nodded. “Really.”  
  
Her voice was quiet. “You mean you ...”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And me ...”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes huge in the dusky light. “Brian ...” she whispered.  
  
He kissed her.  
  
***  
  
“Greg.”  
  
Greg looked around. Bitch was standing there.  
  
“Fuck,” he said. “You surprised me.”  
  
She didn’t respond to that. She just eyed him for a moment. “You’re nearly as clueless as I am,” she said.  
  
This took him by surprise. “What?” he asked.  
  
“The way people see things. The way they say things. You don’t get it. I don’t get it either. Like I said, clueless.”  
  
He blinked. “I’ve done some stupid things from time to time, yeah ...”  
  
She reached out, grabbed his hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong.  
  
“Walk with me,” she said. “Talk about it.”  
  
He didn’t have much of a choice.  
  
But then, he didn’t struggle too hard either.  
  
***  
  
“Dad?”  
  
 _“Taylor? Where are you?”_  
  
“With my friends. Just so you know ... I’ve got a boyfriend now. I’m not going to be a bad girl anymore.”  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
“Dad?”  
  
 _“I’m very pleased to hear that, Taylor. I love you.”_  
  
“I love you too, Dad.”  
  
 _“Goodnight.”_  
  
“Goodnight.”


End file.
